


Sugar

by Sanziene



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Modern AU, Or the sleaziness, Rom-com, Slow Burn, Slow-ish burn, Sugar daddy-sugar baby, and the sugaring is just a plot device, but WITHOUT the power dynamic of it, okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2020-10-04 16:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20474261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanziene/pseuds/Sanziene
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen is a broke college student with 58 Euros to her name and more bills than she cares to add up. One evening, after many, many drinks, Doreah shows her a way out of her financial problems, Sugardaddy.com, a website where rich men and beautiful women can meet.Jorah Mormont is a businessman that has spent the last five years rebuilding the family company he had almost bankrupted in his divorce. He has no time for relationships, and more importantly, no trust left to give. His best friend, Thoros, recommends him the same website. Reluctantly he agrees to sign up.





	1. Water sports

*

“And you’ve done this before? Dany asks, righting herself up in bed, the laptop laying between her and Doreah. 

“Yes! You’ve seen my Gucci bag, do you think I could _ever_ afford it with what they paid me at the coffee shop?” 

Dany blinks at her, she doesn't know how much a Gucci bag costs, but she knows it's expensive and considering how her part-time worker paycheck can barely keep her afloat, she also knows she could never afford one.

Fueled by wine courage, they chit chat and giggle as they browse through the list of potential _benefactors_ in search of one that Dany might be interested in. 

“Oh, you don’t want him!” Doreah says when she comes across the profile of one Robert B. “Total asshole, tiny cock.” 

Dany blushes and laughs it off. This would be so very different if she were sober. “Oh, he’s cute!” She says as they look over the profile of a Jorah M.

“Yeah, I’d fuck him for free.” 

Daenerys laughs out loud but can't help think the same. “Why is he on here? What’s wrong with him?” 

“Oh!” Doreah says. 

“What?” 

“Says here he’s into water sports.” 

“And?” Dany asks puffing, “I’d go sailing with him any day."

“Oh, honey!” Doreah says, petting her arm, “That’s not what that means, not on this website,” then proceeds to tell her the sexual meaning of it. 

“Eww! Eww! NO!” 

Doreah chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “It’s unlikely, but maybe he’s as dumb as you in that regard. Ask him!” 

“No! I’m not asking him _that _!” 

“Why not? What do you have to lose?” 

Dany says nothing. 

“Chicken!” 

Danny huffs, “Fine! Give me the damn phone!”

“That’s really fucking sexy, Daenerys!” Doreah objects, rolling her eyes at Dany.

“Well, it’s true... kinda!”

“They don’t want to hear the truth, they want a fantasy! Urgh! You’ve probably scared him off already.” 

“Shush!” Dany says, swatting her friend’s arm.

On her phone's screen, grey, flashing dots are letting her know that J.M is typing. 

Doreah sighs and grabs the laptop. She starts browsing through the men’s profiles. “I’ll find you another, but this time you type exactly what I tell you!”

Daenerys pays no attention to her.

"Urgh, Petyr!” Doreah says from behind the laptop, shaking her entire body in disgust, "That dude was weird as fuck, I wouldn’t let him come anywhere me, or you!"

Her fingers slide across the trackpad looking for another man.

"Barristan. S. Huh... let's see how you look like, mister S." She says before opening his profile. "Nope! Nuh-uh, you are not fucking any Santa Claus looking grandpa."

Doreah lifts her head over the edge of the monitor, "Are you even listening to me?" 

"Aha, yeah,” Dany says not lifting her eyes from her phone's screen.

"Stannis B. See, this one is tricky. I've had a friend _date_ him for a while. She said he’s a good sugar daddy, took her to some amazing places, gave her a significant money allowance, but apparently the man has some _serious_ Dom tendencies, and I don’t know if that’s your thing..." Doreah glances over at her friend, who's giggling as her fingers fly across the phone. "Yeah, you definitely need someone more... _vanilla_."

"Oh, yes! Tyrion!" Doreah exclaims a few minutes later, "That’s the guy for you! He’s much younger than anyone on here, he’s loaded, and tons of fun. Only thing is ... he’s on the shorter side. He’s a dwarf. What do you think? He'd be a perfect first sugar daddy"

Dany says nothing. 

"Should I message him for you?"

"What? Ah, yeah sure." Dany says her eyes still on her phone.

"You're not listening to me, are you?"

"Yeah, great!" Dany answers. 

Doreah grunts, then mumbles a curse word under her breath as she starts typing. "I have to do all the damn work around here!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to make it perfectly clear that there will be NO urban dictionary version of water sports in this fic or in **anything** I write. EVER! 😆😅****


	2. Pony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you go any further, in order to be in on one of the jokes you need to have either watched Magic Mike or at least be familiar with the song Pony by Ginuwine.  
Please consider listening to it [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lbnoG2dsUk0#t=0m48s)
> 
> WARNING: NSFW SONG!

***

“You caught a fish!” Doreah shouts in her ear and Dany squeals, dropping the phone out of her hands. 

"It's just lunch." She says picking it up from the bed. 

"It's a start! A good start!"

"What should I say? Where do you think we should we have lunch?" 

"Somewhere fancy and expensive…. Oh, I know! Mikos, it's a three-star Michelin restaurant downtown. Their carpaccio is to die for!" Doreah says, her eyes rolling to the back of her head at the sheer memory of the exquisite food.

Dany narrows her eyes at her friend, then types.

"You're killing me here!" Doreah says with an exasperated look upon her face from her place next to Dany. "A public place with lots of light?" She adds mocking Dany's words and rolling her eyes. "I swear, you're a fucking cold shower in the middle of winter!" 

"I'm being safe!"

"Safe?” Doreah cocks an eyebrow, “You're being stupid! Mikos is a public place with lots of light, plus you know... It's lunch! At _ NOON _ ! There's gonna be light! From the SUN! You didn't _ have to _ add all that crap!"

Dany groans. She’s a smart girl, she knows she is, her grades prove it too, but sometimes she feels like she’s running on just two brain cells. Right now is one of those times. “I have zero_ game _,” she acquiesces.

"I know. That’s why I’m here. Maybe, if you're lucky he'll think of Mikos all on his own," Doreah says, her voice softer. 

“I don't really care about your damn three-star restaurant, Doreah….” 

“URGH!” Doreah exhales loudly as she lets herself fall back first onto the bed, grunting all the way down.

“...I just don’t wanna sound like a scaredy-cat.”

Dany almost squeals as she presses the Iphone to her chest, laying down on the bed next to her friend. 

“If he takes you to McDonald's I’m gonna laugh my ass off,” Doreah says with a chuckle in her voice as she turns her head to look at Dany.

“You’re hilarious!” Dany says in the flattest tone she can muster.

“I’m fucking with you!”

“I know!”

“Let’s get down to business,” Doreah continues, rolling over to her side, “that was an awkward first step, but it was still in the right direction. Now we should talk about how much you should charge for your time.”

Dany groans, wishing they wouldn’t have this conversation. She can feel all the warm feelings the texting had kindled inside her turn to ashes. 

“Usually POTs don’t pay you for the first date, but they might bring a gift to show that they appreciate your time and—”

“POTs?”

“Yeah, POTential Sugar Daddy. If this goes beyond a first date, you’re gonna need to talk about compensations for your time, or even better, monthly allowance.” 

“I don’t think he’s ever done this before…”

Doreah groans, “Great! You’ve both _virgins_, what can _possibly_ go wrong? But don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything you need to know! So, I think you should charge €300 per date, no sex included! If he wants to fuck you, and depending on_ how_, double that! But first, you should try to get a monthly allowance out of him. It’s easier, more dependable than charging per date. Under no circumstance should you go under €1500 per month, that’s just insulting. Unless you only see him just once or twice a month, then that’s acceptable.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Dany admits, all this talk is making her feel slightly nauseated, “I don’t think I can have sex with someone for money.”

Doreah props herself up on her elbow. “Well... you don’t have too. They’re paying for your time. Maybe they don’t wanna go to a fancy restaurant alone, maybe they’d rather have a hot young thing on their arms when they do. Maybe it’s a company party they need to attend. Or, they’re single and don’t want to go alone on a vacation. Maybe they’re married and need a vacation away from their wives and kids. They pay for that too. And if you fuck them, then they’ll pay even more. And you’re free to choose how and when and who you fuck.

Doreah’s words make Dany feel better, and the possibility of making a week’s paycheck for just a free meal and drinks sounds very appealing. “But still...” Daenerys complains, still unsure. 

“_But still_ what? You’ve slept with that brain dead stripper, Drogo, because he got you wetter than El Niño by dancing on your lap. “Ride it, my pony, my saddle’s waiting, come’n jump on it.” Doreah sings, lifting her hips off the bed and undulating them the way Drogo had in the strip club. “You rode that useless pony for two months, remember?” 

She does, unfortunately.

“Hey babe can I have a tenner, I’m short?” Doreah continues, mimicking Drogo’s voice. 

“Okay, fine!”

“I’m not done!” She adds lifting a finger “And what about Daario? What did he ever do for you? Gave you? Oh yeah, I remember, nothing, not even half-decent orgasms!”

Dany groans, annoyed with herself for sharing too much with her friend.

“You loved neither of them, yet you fucked them both. You deserve to have nice things, Dany, you deserve to be able to get yourself out of debt, to not have to worry about money, to have savings. _Savings_, Dany! Don’t be an idiot!”

Dany chews on the inside of her cheek, she’s not sure if Doreah is right, but she knows she’s not wrong either.

“He seemed like a decent guy too.” 

“Yeah, he did.”

“You were almost giddy after texting him.”

“... I guess I kinda was.” 

“You were laughing while texting.”

“It was hilarious!” She finds herself saying, a broad smile on her face, “He got chased out of his cabin by a bear! Who has that happen to them? Who?” 

“He’s cute too,” Doreah adds, smiling back at Dany.

“He is.”

“So….?”

Dany inhales, then smiles. Her mind's made up.“What should I wear?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the previous one.


	3. Famous last words

“Well, since you don’t know where he’s taking you,” Doreah says giving an accusatory side-eye to her friend, “I’d go with something simple, but elegant, like a little black dress. You can borrow one of mine, or better yet, I’ll buy you one. Yes! Consider it my investment in your future financial stability. Oh, and I have plenty of bags, and shoes that will go with whatever dress you choose.

But first, we need to discuss what you should expect from the first date and what is expected of you.”

“… Okay.”

“As I said, these men want a fantasy. The perfect woman: gorgeous, smart, but not smarter than they are, elegant, polite, classy, appreciative of them. If you play on their insecurities you can easily wrap a guy around your fingers. And most men are insecure, they do everything they can to hide it, but they are. Like your Daario.”

“What are you talking about, he was the most confident guy I ever met.” 

Doreah chuckles. “Daario was cocky, not confident. Behind the facade was a very insure man. I’m not sure what he was insecure about, but he was. Was it his cock?”

“His cock was fine.”

“Was it the way he used it?”

Dany rolls her eyes.

“I knew it! And you didn’t teach him?”

“I don’t wanna talk about Daario or his cock!”

“Fine! As I was saying, men are insecure, If you stroke their ego, you’ll go far and get rich doing it, but don’t overdo it. They have to think it’s genuine. You also have to be on your best behavior, sit up straight, brush up on your table manners and before you say or do anything think _ proper _ and _ classy _. Got it?” 

“Got it.”

“Okay, now to topics to broach. If he doesn’t offer to take an STD screening ask him to! Some men will be like, ‘Babe, I’ll always wear a condom’. Bullshit! They’ll do it once and then they’ll be like ‘Ohh, babe, I can’t feel you through the condom, I wanna feel you, or ‘I’m too big for this condom.’” Doreah scoffs, “Yeah, right! So anyway, STD screening is a must!

He’ll also want to make sure you’re on some form of birth control, nobody wants to deal with that potential mess.”

Dany’s fingers move to the inner side of her left arm, just under her skin a thin, two-inch-long rod that reminds her of a lollipop stick lays. “It’s still good for three years.” She says feeling it underneath her skin. 

“Good, get the paperwork for it ready, he’ll ask…. What else? Oh, if he wants you to sign an NDA, do it, just read it beforehand, it will make him feel better, more secure and it will give you protection too. I guess that’s it… Oh and one last thing.”

Dany groans, already overwhelmed with information.

“Remember to enjoy yourself and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“What _ wouldn’t _ you do exactly?”

“HEY! I take offense to that,” Doreah says with a smile on her face. “And Dany, don’t eat yourself up over it, he’s just a fish, your first one, if it doesn’t work out with him, there’s still Tyrion.”

Dany cocks an eyebrow? “Who?”

“Urgh!”Doreah grunts as she lays her face in the palm of her hand. 

—Three months ago—

“And why would I do this?” Jorah asks looking at Thoros from behind his whiskey glass. They’re in Jorah’s office, sitting in his fine leather chairs, having a drink long after business hours, “I lost almost everything to a greedy woman once, why would I deliberately put myself in front of another?” He adds before sipping on his drink.

“Because this way you know the cost upfront. It’s simple, transactional. You offer the funds, they give you their time and their bodies.”

“That just sounds... wrong.”

“Why? Wasn’t that the jest of your marriage?”

Jorah gives him a piercing look. 

“I know that’s not how _ you _ saw it. You loved the woman, but she… not so much. She did love your money though, and she had a fancy for your ex-business partner, or his cock.”

“Thoros!” 

Thoros shrugs and takes a swing at his drink. “I’ve met some interesting, lovely, and smart ladies this way. They get what they want, I get what I want, we’re both better for it. It’s simple.”

“Doesn’t seem that _ simple _ to me.”

“It is. Think of it as a contract. Demand and supply, payments for services rendered... you know the deal. You can even ask for an NDA if you want, it will protect you, and protect the girl too. It’s up to you tho. Oh, but ALWAYS ask for an STD Screening, never do _ anything _ with them before you get that.”

Jorah groans, “I don’t know. All of this just seems sullied somehow.”

“It’s the opposite of it. But you don’t have to fuck them if you don’t want to. I’ll think you’re an idiot if you don’t, of course, but it’s up to you. You can just enjoy their company.”

“What about having a genuine connection with someone, based on something more than just money?”

Thoros rolls his eyes. “Maybe you could’ve had that five years ago, when you were broke. But now that you’re a rich man again, that’s gonna be hard to find. Like it or not, money makes the world go round. You’ll always be a rich man first and foremost to any woman you meet.”

“That’s… harsh.”

“That’s true. Rich people get to wonder if the person next to them is there for them or for their bank account. This way you know up front that it is because of your bank account, and since you know that, you won’t fall for any of them.”

Jorah takes another sip of his drink.

—Now—

“Urgh!” Dany groans, hearing a knock on her bedroom door. “Whaaaat?”

“Your…” Missandei starts as Doreah moves past her from the threshold of the door and into Dany’s room, “friend is here.”

“What time is it?” Dany asks, barely lifting her head off her pillow.

“It’s 8:30.” Missandei, her always proper and punctual friend and roommate, answers.

“Why are you up so early?” Dany questions and everyone knows she’s asking Doreah, for Missandei is the early bird out of all three of them. 

“I’ve come to help you get ready for your date,” Doreah says, her voice perky as she throws a large duffle bag onto Dany’s bed. 

“A date?” Missandei asks, her interest perked, “At this hour?”

“Yes, a lunch date. Don’t you have some pillows to fluff or something to tidy up?" Doreah batts her eyelashes at Missandei. Her two friends are like water and oil, and get along like cats and dogs. “Why are you still in bed?” She asks Dany.

“I had to close the store last night, then I studied until 4 am.”

“Well, hopefully, you can quit your minimum wage job soon.” 

Missandei, always perceptive, cocks an eyebrow. “Quit her job? No, she can’t quit her job, we have rent to pay and utilities. Unlike you, we don’t have men paying for our way through life.”

Doreah rolls her eyes.

“What sort of date is this, Daenerys?”

“One that does not concern you!”

“Girls! Stop it!” Dany says lifting herself up in bed, “It’s just a date... with a guy… that’s all.”

“Uh-hm.” Missandei grunts, “Well, enjoy your date, Dany. Doreah, a pleasure as usual.”

“Same, babe, same!” Doreah offers with a wink as Missandei closes the door behind her.

“You need to be nicer to her!”

“She needs to be nicer to me!”

“I’m sure Missandei would—” 

Doreah scoffs, not letting Dany finish her words, “We don’t have time for little Miss Perfect or her highly proper ass right now. Come on, get _your_ ass out of bed and go shower!”

Daenerys goans, wishing her friend would have shown up an hour later, or not at all. She’s a grown woman, she can get ready on her own, but sleep deprivation is better than arguing with Doreah. _ Anything _ is better than arguing with Doreah. So, Dany fumbles out of bed, making her way towards the dresser in search of clean undies and a bra. 

“Grab your sexiest lingerie!” She hears Doreah say as she’s rummaging through her delicates. “Oh, and don’t forget to shave. _ Everything._”

Dany eyes her friend, annoyed. “I thought it was just lunch.”

“You never know.” 

An hour and a half later, thanks to her friend, Dany’s hair cascades beautifully down her back in loose, perfect curls. 

“Gorgeous! Now time for makeup,” Doreah says grabbing her make-up bag, a Webster’s dictionary sized pouch filled with dozens and dozens of cosmetics. “It’s lunch, not dinner, so let’s go for something natural, earth tones for the eyes, maybe a peach tinted gloss for your lips, a little blush... Oh, and falsies to make your eyes look bigger, you’ll look more awake too, more interested in whatever he has to say.”

Another forty-five minutes later, Dany's ready. 

“Wow! You look amazing!” Doreah offers. “Simple but classy and sexy. He’s gonna love you.”

“Thank you!” Dany says with a smile, batting her long, false eyelashes and looking in the mirror, her hands splaying over her flat belly then down the curves of her hips. “I do look good!”

“You’ve got this,” Doreah says from behind her, looking at both of their reflections inside the full-length mirror, “hell, he might even fall for you.” She adds with a cocky smile. It disappears a moment later, “Whatever you do Daenerys, don’t fall for the John.”

“Jon?” Dany says, something twisting in her stomach at the name of the guy she’s had a crush on for the past two years.

“No! Not Jon, _the John_. Don’t fall for this guy... What’s his name?”

“Jorah.”

“Yeah, don’t fall him.”

“I’m not gonna fall for Jorah!” Dany says with conviction .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to include their lunch date but it got way too long so I split it in two. 
> 
> I don't want to gloss over the more nitty-gritty aspects of this, like money, STD prevention, birth control, while at the same time I don't want to sully this. Things will be ....different once the aragement is established. :)
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> (I'm loving Doreah, she's a firecracker. And Missandei, that's just a glimpse into her.)


	4. Daenerys and the horrible, no good, bad date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, special thanks to the fandom godmother, Clarasimone, for being my Beta reader this chapter and putting up with my shit, as well as being all-around AWESOME
> 
> Feel free to picture this Jorah, but with shorter hair and a stubble :)  


Dany decides that she can’t spare the money for an Uber, so she takes the bus instead. She’s down to 32 Euros and her next paycheck is a week from now, but she’s not too worried, she has a couple hundred on her credit card, and in case of an emergency there’s always _ his _ money. The money she’s been saving up for _ him _ . It’s not really _ his _ money, of course, _ he _ has not worked a minute for that money, she has. But if he shows up again, as he does every few months, paying him off is the easiest way to get rid of him. 

As she gets off the bus, Dany shakes her head gently, trying to get the thoughts of _ him _ out of her mind. She has to focus on her date, and on all the things Doreah had mentioned. So she straightens her back further, pushing her breasts out slightly. She wants to be as proper as possible, as likable as possible, she wants him to want her and she wants the money he could offer, they could change her life so much, all for the better. And judging by his profile picture he’s kinda cute, plus she’s enjoyed all the times they have texted, so she’s not surprised at all to realize she’s looking forward to this date.

Her walk from the bus stop to their meeting place is nothing like her normal walk, no, she walks as if she were a supermodel on the catwalk, and with every step she’s feeling more confident, standing tall in her borrowed, high heels and in the beautiful dress Doreah had bought for her. And just then the wind picks up, making her long hair flow behind her, adding to her fantasy, where she’s a coveted model or better yet, a Hollywood movie star. 

_ You’ve got this, Daenerys. _ She thinks, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

She’s there, and he’s not, so she glances at the phone she has tucked away in her clutch. She’s early, fifteen minutes early, for once the bus had arrived on time and traffic hadn’t been horrible. She lets out a small sigh, but she won’t let that take away from her mood, no, right now, she’s much too confident for that. _ This is even better, _ she thinks, waiting in the small piazza, _ this way he can see all of me, filling this dress nicely, my hair blowing softly in the wind. Yes! This way, he won’t stand a chance. _ A smirk blossoms on her lips, then Daenerys blinks and blinks some more, for the wind that fueled her fantasy moments ago has now picked up and it’s blowing dust in her face and eyes.

Dany grunts and turns her back to the wind, feeling it breezing through the thin fabric of her dress and chilling her skin. _ God damn this city and its weather! _ She thinks as she shoves her clutch between her legs to free her hands so she can run them through her hair in an effort to tame it. It’s useless, the wind blows it out of her hands, and straight ahead, then to one side and then the other. When it finally relents, she can’t help but feel like Cousin Itt. She curses in her head as she rakes her fingers through her now matted hair, trying to get it back to its former glory. 

She’s almost done when the wind comes back with a vengeance. _ No, you don’t! _She thinks as she turns towards the wind, waddling like a penguin with her clutch still between her legs. She lets the wind work in her favor, twisting her hair behind her. “Aha!” She exclaims, victoriously, grabbing ahold of the single, thick curl the wind had swirled her hair into. She’s wrapping it around into a bun when another gust of wind hits her. Her hold on her hair is strong and relentless, but this time the wind doesn’t come alone, it carries with it dust and dirt particles and it throws them in her face and smackdab in her eyes.

“Fuck you, Zephyrus!” She mumbles under her breath as she lets go of her hair and waddles against the wind again. She’s blinking and blinking, a finger on her waterline, rubbing and picking, trying to get at whatever got stuck in there. She’s sure it’s a mere speck of something, but it feels like a damn tree branch is caught in her left eye. _ Almost, almost… There! _

Dany exhales relieved and blinks some more, it’s gone now, whatever that speck was. But she gets no respite, for another gust of wind blows in her back, threatening to further ruin all her unmatting work. “For fuck's sake!” She says out loud, then with her eyes closed and the clutch still between her legs, she waddles back to face the damned wind, but instead of being hit in the face by the wind she gets hit by a wall. Or so she thinks until she opens her eyes.

The _ wall _ is a crisp, white shirt and navy suit-clad chest, and she hears the _ wall _speak. 

“Daenerys?” The _ wall _ questions, his voice smoother than 90’s R&B and she’s trailing her eyes up from his chest to his strong jaw and further up a perfectly straight nose and eyes so blue she can swim in. Or drown in. _ FUCK! _

“Yes.” She says, swallowing without realizing, her hands flying to her hair taming it the best she can. 

“Jorah.” He says with that thicker than molasses voice of his, extending a hand towards her. Daenerys blinks out of her momentary stupor and straightens both her back and her legs. _ Fuck! _ She manages to think as her clutch, or more accurately, Doreah’s clutch, falls from between her legs onto the pavement with a loud clunk, its contents spilling and rolling on the concrete. “ _ Shit!” _She mutters as she bends down, fingers quickly gripping phone, then gloss, then scattered cards. Jorah leans over to help her, but Dany rights herself up a mere moment later, and it’s only thanks to his quick thinking and fast reflexes that he narrowly avoids getting headbutted.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, feeling like a damn fool, “I… I’m… the wind...” she tries to explain, but of course, _ now _there isn’t the slightest of breezes touching her skin, or his. 

“No worries.” He says nonchalantly.

_ That voice! _ She never could have pictured that smooth, yet gravel-like voice coming out of that pretty mouth, not in a million years. And damn, he’s taller than she thought, and there’s a _ presence _ about him that she can’t quite define, but she refuses to think of it further, for she’s feeling flustered already… And dammit! He was supposed to be the flustered one! 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, looking down at her with those blue eyes of his, “you look lovely, by the way.”

_ You should have seen me ten minutes ago, _ Dany thinks with a sigh, but instead says, “Nice to meet you too,” Her eyes trail up his body, slowly drinking in the little movements of his sinewy muscles, “you also look lovely.” 

Jorah smiles warmly, “The restaurant is this way.” He says, showing the direction with one hand, then taking the first step towards it, “Join me?” 

Dany nods with a smile of her own and starts walking in pace with him. As she walks, she can’t help but rake a hand through her hair one last time. 

“Sorry if this is a little unconventional, I just wanted to surprise you. Hope it turns out to be worth the trouble.” Jorah says sounding apologetic.

“I’m sure it will.” She offers, trying her best not to think of just how much of a fool she has already made of herself and hoping some of the confidence she had found earlier will find its way back to her. 

A few minutes later their feet stop before a newly renovated Art-Deco building. To her surprise, Jorah doesn’t make for the short flight of stairs before the front door, but rather for the side of the building, down a covered flight of stairs. 

_Shit!_ Dany thinks looking down at the narrow, dark and ominous staircase.

She stops at the top and Jorah turns to her three steps down, noticing her absence. 

“I asked for one thing…” Dany starts, trying to keep her voice leveled and as polite as possible, “a restaurant with lots of light… and people, and you decide to take me down a dark flight of stairs to what looks like a dungeon?”

Jorah chuckles just the slightest, then moves up a step and extends his hand. There’s nothing but kindness and warmth in his eyes as he says “Trust me?”

_ Fuck! _

_ No, I don’t wanna trust you, I don’t know you! _ She whines in her head, but he’s looking up at her with his damned blue eyes and they’re almost pleading and_… Oh God, he looks like a puppy! _

_ It’s okay Daenerys, he’s not a serial killer, no serial killer could be this charming! _ She assures herself, then something in the back of her head says, _ Ted Bundy. _

“Please,” Jorah adds.

Dany still waivers._ Please don’t let it be a sex dungeon, please don’t let it be a sex dungeon! _“Please don’t let it be a sex dungeon!”

“What?”

_ Shit, did I say that out loud?! _

“Nothing!” Dany says finally taking his hand, and the most bizarre thing happens. As her skin touches his, all her worries vanish and she feels… safe. _ What the? _There’s a warmth emanating from his skin and it’s traveling up her arm, then down her body, settling in her belly and… _Oh,_ _ God, what’s happening? _She wants to yank her hand out of his because this feeling is all new to her and just too damn _ much _ , but she doesn’t. _ It wouldn’t be proper, _ she tells herself. 

A few more steps and Jorah stops at the landing in front of an old, steel door. He lets go of her hand and Dany already misses the warmth. 

“I hope there’ll be enough light for you.” He says as he opens the door and Dany’s eyes twinkle with a million colors, her mouth opening of its own accord. 

Behind the threshold, and above a dozen, white-topped tables, thousands and thousands of multi-colored, multi-shaped Christmas lights hang from every inch of the ceiling, shining down.

“This is amazing!” Dany says, her eyes bright with color. The ceiling looks like the inside of a Christmas store, or like something designed by a magpie fairy. It makes her heart swell and light up, then the trace of a memory comes back to her. Christmas Eve, a mother she barely remembers, laugher and twinkling lights… _ happiness, love._ Dany swallows, “And yes, more than enough lights. It’s beautiful!” She adds, her entire face a smile, a twinkle of something more than just the lights in her eyes.

Jorah smiles back.

“How did you find this place?” She asks as the hostesses guides them to their table.

“I’ll be honest,” he says as he pulls the chair for her, “my assistant recommended it.”

“Well, give my compliments to your assistant because… wow!” 

“I will.” He says taking his own seat. “She also mentioned that this restaurant has an amazing tasting menu, apparently it’s a trip around the world in culinary delicacies.” 

“That sounds great, I love discovering new things,” Dany says with honest excitement. 

“The tasting menu it is, then.”

As if summoned by the restaurateur gods, just as they make their decision, the waiter appears to take their order. He’s a young, wiry, but pleasant-enough looking man, and he greats Jorah with a nod and a hello, then turns to offer the same to her, but instead of a nod or a hello he stops and looks at her, blinking once, twice.

Dany’s hands go instinctively to her hair, combing it delicately, trying to keep up the facade of a perfect, classy, Daenerys. The man blinks again and it seems that his best, customer-service demeanor takes over. A few glances and exchanges later and having Dany’s approval, Jorah orders a Bordeaux to pair with their tasting menu. 

As the waiter leaves, Jorah gives her another smile, and Dany smiles back, but where his smile is merely something not unlike a string pulling at the edge of his mouth and rounding his cheek just the slightest, Dany’s smile is wide and toothy. She pulls it down a bit, feeling like a grinning idiot all of a sudden.

“You mentioned in our texts that you’re in college, what do you study?” He asks, placing an arm on the table and leaning towards her just slightly, yet giving her the impression that he’ll be hanging on to her every word. 

“Uhm… Political science and foreign languages.”

“Double major?” 

“Yeah… ” Dany chuckles.

“When do you have time for… _ anything else _?” 

“The semester is almost over and I’m a fast learner, so I don’t have to study much, which annoys the hell out of my friends and classmates.”

“I bet it does.” He says with the same, thin smile. “What languages do you speak?”

“Well… English,” she chuckles, “and different degrees of French, Italian, Spanish with a smidge of Portuguese.”

“Romance languages. C'est très intéressant._”_

“Parlez vous Français?”

“Puedo hablar un poco de francés y un poco más de español. It helps in my business dealings. You wouldn’t believe the things people will say when they think you can’t understand them.”

Dany chuckles, “Oh, I believe it! Actually that’s one of my favorite things about being a polyglot, sometimes it’s like being party to their inner thoughts.”

“It is!” 

_ “Ma parli anche italiano?” _Dany asks.

“No, I don’t, but I can understand some of it.” Jorah brings his thumb and index finger together, a mere centimeter between them, “_ Un po’.” _

“Miláte kai elliniká?”

“I’m sorry… what was that?”

“The language I’m majoring in, Greek.” 

“You got me there. Greek is… well, Greek to me.”

Dany chuckles at the sound of that. 

“Why Greek? That’s an unusual choice.” 

“I love, _ love _ everything Greek. I love Greek mythology, Greek culture, their food, their music, their language, the little towns frozen in time, the myriad of archeological sites, the teal-blue of the Aegean, the… I just love Greece.” Dany finishes, catching herself. 

“You’ve been to Greece before?”

“Once. I stayed for two weeks. I feel like… and I know this is going to sound weird, but I feel like there are some places on Earth where some sort of magic still lingers. I feel like there’s still some magic left in Greece.”

“Can’t say I’ve felt any magic anywhere in Greece.” He says matter-of-factly.

Dany looks at his expensive suit and the watch that costs more than she makes in a year at her retail job before saying, “I don’t imagine you strayed too far from the nearest four, or five-star hotel… I think magic is hidden at the end of old, back roads or in ancient olive groves, in moonless nights on white-sand beaches in the middle of nowhere...” There’s no maliciousness in her voice as she says it, but she remembers Doreah’s words about being on her best behavior, and suddenly she wishes she could rewind time like an old VCR tape and keep her mouth shut. 

But Jorah only chuckles, “Maybe you’re right.” He sounds nothing less than sincere when he adds, “Next time I’ll be there I’ll look for the magic you speak of.” 

“I don’t really believe in the supernatural, but there, on the shores of Macedonia, I felt… _ something _.” 

Jorah smiles at her, warm and sweet, his eyes piercing hers and all of a sudden the urge to look anywhere but at him is overwhelming.

“And you mentioned political science,” he says, forcing her eyes back to him, “do you want to be a politician?

“I want to help people.” She says trying her damn hardest to hold his gaze, “Politics are boring and headache-inducing for many, but that’s where real change happens. And I want to be _there,_ I want to be a player, not a bystander.”

He looks at her, his eyes scanning her face, reading her, “Greek for yourself, political science for everyone else, or is there more to it?” 

Dany swallows, then smiles, hoping Jorah won’t dig further. She’s definitely not going to tell him that yes, she wants to help people, but she also wants some form of power. How could she not, when most of her life she had had none, when she had only acquired agency after moving to this city for college and away from _him_. 

To Dany’s relief, at that moment, the waiter returns with the bottle of red wine. A mere moment later, the cork leaves the bottle’s neck with a small pop and the waiter proceeded to pour them each a glass. He departs with a nod and a smile leaving the bottle on the table. 

“And how old are you?” Jorah asks, reaching for his glass and taking a sip.

“Twenty-two.” She answers and notices him choking on the wine just slightly. “How old are you?” 

“Your age… times two.” 

“Well…” Dany starts, unsure of what to say. She’s unphased by the age difference, she thought she might be, but she isn’t, at all. He’s attractive and fit and she’s enjoying chatting with him more than she thought she would.

“Before we continue,” he interrupts her thoughts, “I should say that I’ve never done _this,_ so I’m not sure if what I’m doing is right or not.”

“I’ve never done it either,” Dany says watching him take another sip of wine, “I’m a virgin,” she adds and Jorah chokes on his wine in honest, a hand moving fast to his mouth, covering his coughing.

“No!”_ Fuck! _ “I mean, I’m not a virgin-virgin,” she says her face turning red, the tip of her ears burning, “I just… oh Lord!” Dany reaches for her glass and takes a gulp. _ Don’t fuck this up, Daenerys_. Once the wine settles in her belly she adds, composed, “You’re the first person I’ve met from that website.” _ There, you got this! _

“I was hoping you had some experience with this since I'm not sure what to do, when to bring up…. _ things _ and when not to.”

“Your first course,” their waiter interrupts, “Caviar of the East soup.” He adds with a prideful face placing the smallest bowl Dany has ever seen in front of her, then another in front of Jorah before departing with a “Bon Appétit!”

Dany looks down at it, it’s a deep, marigold yellow with a reddish tint and it reminds her of the weird-looking aspic her Eastern European classmate had brought to a potluck once.

“What is it?” She says, lifting her eyes up from her dish and laying them on Jorah, who’s moving his spoon around the small bowl in front of him.

“I wish I knew.” 

“There’s nothing in it besides the liquid that’s not very… _ liquidy _,” she says swirling her spoon, “... maybe some type of jello broth? Or caviar aspic?” She ventures.

Jorah lifts a spoonful to his mouth, “Doesn’t smell or look like any caviar I’ve had. I’ll ask.” He says raising his hand to get the waiter's attention. 

“Excuse me, could you tell me what this is?”

“Caviar of the East.”

“Yes… but _ what _ is it?

Dany swirls her soup around and brings it to her mouth. She’s famished. With all the morning preparations she hadn’t had the chance to eat anything today. 

“It’s bird nest soup, a Southeast Asian delicacy.”

The spoon goes into Dany’s mouth, and once she gets past the texture she finds it’s surprisingly sweet and not too bad actually.

“Bird nest?” Jorah questions.

Dany takes another spoonful.

“Yes, it’s made out of swiftlet saliva.”

“This is bird saliva?” Jorah asks and Dany’s eyes bulge. 

Suddenly she can’t taste sweetness in her mouth, just gelatine and she _ knows _ it’s all in her head, but _ spit _ too. So she dips her head over the tiny bowl and hacks the jello soup back not unlike a cat hacking up a hairball. As she grabs the napkin from her lap and wipes it over her tongue, trying to get the taste out of her mouth, she’s thankful that the waiter hadn’t noticed. But by the sound of the snort leaving Jorah’s mouth, _ he _ hadn’t missed the show. _ Fuuuuck! _

“Thank you,” Jorah says to the waiter, “but I think my date and I will wait for the next course.” 

As Dany cleanses her mouth with wine, the waiter picks up their dishes. 

She can’t give Jorah the opportunity to bring up what he just saw, she just can’t. If he does, she might as well dig a hole right there and then and bury herself in it, so as soon as she swallows her drink she asks, “Tell me about yourself, are you… married?”

Jorah blinks. “No, I’m not. I wouldn’t be here if I were.”

“Oh…” She says and wonders if she’d care if he were married. She wants to think no, she wants to… but she can’t.

“I…” Jorah puts a hand through his hair, “Cheating is not something I do… I found myself on the receiving end of that in my marriage... It wasn’t fun. I wouldn’t do that to someone else.”

“I’m sorry…Are you… divorced?”

“Yes, five years now.”

“How long were you married?”

“Longer than I should have been. Seven years.”

“No love left there?” She ventures. 

“None. On either side.” 

“Clean cut… that’s good, I guess.”

Jorah chuckles lightly. “I wouldn’t go that far. We still travel in the same circles, so…”

“I see…” Dany reaches for her glass, “So, you know what I do, Mr. Jorah…. ” 

“Mormont.”

“Mr. Jorah Mormont,” She says, liking the sound of it on her tongue, “what do you do?” 

“I’m the CEO of my family’s company. It’s a very old company, it started over five hundred years ago with an enterprising ancestor who sold pelts; wolves’, bears’ whatever he could find and kill. It grew and morphed with the times, it was a manufacturing company until…” Jorah stops and a shadow crosses his face. “...It’s mainly a holdings company now.”

“Old money.” Dany finds herself saying.

“New money, actually,” Jorah corrects her, “my ex took the old money. I had to build it back up from very little.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been a horrible time for you. Five hundred years of history on your shoulders… plus the divorce….”

Jorah blinks, something changing in his face and especially in his eyes and Dany wonders if this is the first time someone had acknowledged _ his _ hardship. She hopes not.

“It was.” Jorah says, “I was still in love with my wife while she was in love with my money, and maybe, my business partner, though that didn’t last long. But the worst part was almost losing the company. You’re right, I felt like I had five hundred years of history on my shoulders, and I almost dropped them, almost shattered them. But it was all for the better, the company is better off than it was five years ago, at least _ I _ think so. I should probably thank my ex for that.” He chuckles, but there’s no real humor in his voice. 

Dany narrows her eyes. There’s more to the story, she can feel it, see it in the way he’s just slightly uncomfortable talking about this, but she hears Doreah’s voice in her head telling her to _ shut the fuck up,_ so she does. She does file the conversation away for another time, though, if there will be another time. 

She’s here to make him enjoy himself, not make him uncomfortable, so she chuckles back, lightly, then takes another sip of her wine. 

“What do you do for fun, besides water sports?” Dany asks as she puts her glass down and this time Jorah laughs wholeheartedly and so does she.

But he never gets to answer her, for the waiter brings them their next course. _ Burrata salad_ he calls it and she’s thankful that this time she recognized everything on her tiny plate. Multi-colored baby tomatoes over a bed of greens with mozzarella balls sprinkled on top. It looks like a Caprese salad and she’s not sure what part of this is the burrata, but it doesn’t matter. _ This _ she knows, _ this _ she likes. So she’s nothing but confident as she forks a tomato, with the unpierced mozzarella ball on top of it and delicately places it in her mouth. But when she bites down, the baby tomato explodes in her mouth and the _ mozzarella _ ball oozes out like a curd and cream filled zit, or like damned Daario who always just _ forgot _ to let her know he was close to spilling himself in her mouth. The combination of senses turns her stomach and makes her gag. She wants to swallow it, she really does, but she can’t bring herself to, so with a hand to her mouth she lifts herself from the table. 

Jorah sits up too, but she makes a movement with her other hand, assuring him that all is well, then she dashed to the restroom. The stall door flies open and she’s spitting into the toilet bowl wishing he had taken her to McDonalds instead for she knows she wouldn’t have made a fool of herself there. 

_ You utter twat_, Daenerys admonishes herself as she makes her way to the sink. Her hands grab ahold of the black marble and she bows her head, shaking it in disbelief at everything that has happened since the piazza. But she has no time to feel sorry for herself, so she takes a deep breath and rights herself. _ You can save this, you’ve got this! _ She thinks looking at herself in the mirror. To her pleasant surprise, her hair does not look as wild as she thought it would. It’s not great, nowhere near how it was right after Doreah’s styling, but it’s not horrible. Nonetheless, she runs her fingers through it trying to tame it further. She blinks looking into the mirror, then blinks again. Something is off, but she’s not sure what. Dany moves closer to the mirror and sees it. Somewhere along the way she has lost one of her fake eyelashes. She looks wide awake in one eye, while the other looks sleepy by comparison. “Oh, for fuck's sake!” She says out loud stomping a foot like a three-year-old, and hoping and praying that she lost the eyelash now, in the toilet bowl, and not at any point before that. Dany grunts, even more annoyed with herself, then peels off the other eyelash, as she does, visions of her rubbing the same eye, trying to get the damned speck of something out of it come to her, followed by the surprised look on the waiter’s face and she’s not sure if she feels like bursting into tears or laughter. She does neither, instead, she bites down on her bottom lip, and facepalms, wishing that the earth would just open up and swallow her whole. _ Oh Lord, I’ve looked like a complete twat since I met Jorah. FUCK! _

_ Fuuuuuuck! _

_ Okay, that’s enough, _ she thinks a moment later, shaking herself back to her senses, _ you’re gonna go out there and be an adult._ _A proper one._

Dany finishes combing her hair, then picks at the remnants of glue on her eyelids._ Why hasn’t he says anything? _ She wonders, and a flicker of hope sparks inside her. _ Maybe he needs glasses, maybe his vision is not great, maybe I’m a blurry mess to him. Yeah, that’s it, that’s gotta be it. _

Dany takes a breath and looks at herself. She’s not looking too bad, even without the eyelashes, even though now her eyes look smaller and sleepier than they did a few moments ago, or one of them anyway. 

“Fuck it!” She says, then takes another breath and makes her way back to their table.

“Everything all right?” Jorah asks, real concern on his face. If he’s noticed that she looks less awake now, he doesn’t mention it, which gives her hope that he really does need glasses and it's not just her wishful thinking. 

“Everything is fine,” she says taking a seat back. “I just…” she decides that honesty is the best policy and if this date is already ruined, than what’s one more embarrassing moment thrown on top of all the others? “I didn’t expect the mozzarella ball to explode in my mouth like that.”

Jorah smiles warmly, “That’s because it’s a burrata ball. It does that… I’m sorry. Do you wanna go?”

_ Oh God, he wants to go! Of course he does, this has been a disaster. Yeah, I should go, I should… Yes! _She thinks. “No,” she finds herself saying and meaning it, “not unless you want to.”

“I’m fine right here.” He says, his thin smile pulling at his lips. 

“Though if the waiters brings out_ balut _ next, I am walking out.” Dany adds.

“Balut?”

“Filipino delicacy, boiled, fertilized duck egg.”

“Oh! Then, yes, I will _ definitely _ be joining you out that door.”

“They say it’s an aphrodisiac, you know.”

“I’m good.” Jorah says with a chuckle and Dany chuckles back. 

She catches his eyes and he catches hers and the chuckling stops. Time stops. The lights that flickered above them do so no longer, the sound of the other patrons gets drawn out and they look at each other for a moment that stretches like honey from a dripper, something not unlike static electricity pricking in the air between them. Dany’s mouth runs dry and she’s reaching for her wine, her eyes still on him. But her fingers miss the glass and hit the bottle, spilling it over the table and into Jorah’s lap. 

_ Fuck, fuck fuck! _

Dany hands reach for the bottle but half of it is already in Jorah’s lap and on his shirt, so as he bolts from his seat, she bolts from hers, grabbing her napkin and patting it on his shirt and down to his pants. _ Shit! Shit SHIIIT! _

“No, it’s fine,” Jorah says, grabbing his own napkin.

Dany is patting and rubbing at his crotch with her stained napkin, trying her best to soak up as much of the wine as possible. _Fuck, fuuck!_

“It’s okay!”He says again, trying to stop her ministrations, but she’s a woman on a mission. 

“Daenerys!” He says, his hand wrapped around her wrist, forcing her to stop, “It’s okay. Please!” 

_ Oh god! Oh god! _ “I’m sorry!” She says, stopping and Jorah lets go of her. “I’m so sorry,” she says again, her face burning red, embarrassment emanating through her every pore, “I … I should go.”

“No.” He objects.

“No, I really should go, this has been a disaster… ” She says throwing the soaked napkin on the table and grabbing her clutch. 

“Daenerys, don’t…” Jorah starts, but Dany is already making for the door. 

“Send me the dry cleaning bill.” She says over her shoulder, then bolts through the exit and runs up the short flight of stairs.

Outside, the wind has picked up again and she’s cursing it in her head, and she’s cursing herself and her luck too. _Stupid, stupid idiot! _She's screaming in her head, angry with herself and feeling like utter shit.

Dany's feet take her back to the bus stop, and she can't help but think of how confident she had been as she stepped off the bus less than an hour ago and how absolutely deflated she feels now. She ruined everything. This date will forever remain etched in her brain as _the worst date ever_ and she's sure he feels the same, and by God, the notion sits horribly in the pit of her stomach. And she's not sure why, after all, as Doreah said, he's just a fish, and since this one didn't work out there's another one lined up, but the mere thought nauseates her. She wants the money, she _needs_ the money, but _this_ is not her, is it? She can't just jump from one to the other, can she? And damn it, she liked _this_ fish, she could picture herself with him and beneath him too, him breathing her name in her ear as he... 

_STOP IT!_ She admonishes herself as she takes out her phone and texts Doreah.

Dany lifts her eyes away from the screen as the bus door swishes open. She’s happy to finds a seat next to an old lady for at least now she can sulk properly and cry over Doreah's shoulder via text.

When her phone dings again, to her surprise is not Doreah's name that appears, but Jorah's.

The black square in their chat is letting her know that he has sent her 500 Euros via Apple pay.

_AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!_

Dany's heart is pounding out of her chest for she didn't think she'd hear from him again, let alone _this_.

_Oh God, oh God!_

She thought herself ready for this, Doreah had coached her enough during the past few days, but now, coming face to face with it... now she realizes she's not ready. Dany takes a few short and fast breaths like a woman in labor and the lady next to her looks at her funny. 

_You can do this! You've got this! Just channel Doreah, just do it! _

Dany's thumbs tap nervously at the edge of the phone screen, unable to reply to him just yet. She likes him, she knows that for a fact and if the date had gone just a little bit more in her favor, and if it had been a real date she might have gone home with him right now. As Doreah said, she'd fuck him for free and the money is not just tempting, but the reason she started down this path, so really it's a win-win situation...

But the thought of _actually_ talking about money, asking for it... URGH! It makes her feel icky. 

Dany groans again, then chants Doreah's name in her head, trying to channel her friend as she starts typing.

Dany scrolls back up and accepts it, then squeals out loud and the old lady next to her jumps out of her skin.

“Sorry, M’am! Sorry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to my Pinoy readers, but damn, balut is just ...no! 😬😬😬 
> 
> This was the last of the STD and birth control talk and probably about 95% of money talk is done and over with too. 
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Did you laugh? Chuckle? Smile? Did something pull at the corner of your lip? Whereat? 
> 
> PS: I think it might be a little while before this fic gets another update because I want to write the next chapters of my other 3 fics first 😬  
(But then again that's what I thought two chapters ago..... so don't quote me 😅)


	5. Never have I ever

—Friday—

“Home,” Jorah says to his driver, lifting his eyes off the phone and placing the device next to him on the leather backseat. He’d much rather put it back in a pocket or another, but no such luck, for none is free of wine. 

A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he looks at the mess of him, pulling the wet, dirty-pink stained shirt off his abdomen and thinking of Daenerys and their disastrous date. Yet, he would not change a thing, not even those wine stains all over his suit, because, for the first time in longer than he cares to remember, he feels alive, _ she _has made him feel alive. 

There is something about her and he doesn’t know what, he can’t put a finger on it, but it’s not just her beauty, it’s something deeper, like a spark of some sort, and that spark of hers has reached inside him and rekindled the fire that had gone out years ago. 

And even as he had stood, wine dripping down his shirt and pants, looking at her as she hurried for the restaurant door, he knew he could not let that spark, nor her go. He had called out after her, stupidly, even after she had run out the door, and he would’ve followed in her footsteps if it were not for the waiter that had come to make a fuss over him. If it were not for the bill that had to be paid. But, it had all turned out for the better, she had accepted their arrangement, and so, he would get to see her again. 

_ The arrangement, _ Jorah groans inwardly, wishing he had met her under different, more normal circumstances. _ If you did, she might have paid no mind to you, _ a harsh voice says inside his head. _ Maybe so_, he agrees, but his tone is defiant. 

“Did ya’ have too much to drink, sir?” His driver asks, crinkling his nose, and Jorah chuckles, knowing full well that he smells like a drunkard.

“Fortunately, no, Tormund. Fortunately, no.”

—Monday—

Three days and a few exchanged medical records later, Daenerys finds herself 5000 Euros richer. 

She looks at the money in her account in disbelief; blinking and blinking, still not believing that the decimal point had jumped back by two, and all she had to do was go out to lunch with an attractive man. 

_ Well, for now at least, _she corrects herself then chuckles and chuckles some more as she looks again at the banking app on her phone, at the checking balance, at the credit balance and her yet-non-existent savings one. 

She makes a mental note to open a savings account as she pays off her credit card balance. One date and she’s debt-free when, with her shitty, part-time job it would have taken her over a year to pay it off. One date and her checking account is still fuller than it has ever been and she doesn’t have to worry about next month’s rent, or how to stretch her grocery budget for one more week. One date and she can taste a drop of the _rich life _on her lips. 

She knows full well that her little treasure is nothing more than pocket change for the truly rich, yet it means so much to her. With it, her life changed instantly and all for the better and she doesn’t want to let it go, doesn’t want to spend one single Euro of it. She wants more of it. In her mind’s eyes, she wraps herself around it like a dragon around its gold-filled coffers. _ Mine! _

Yet, she has to spend some of it, or at least put it aside for Viserys, so she puts on her coat and walks to her bank to withdraw her_ brother’s money_. His share. 

Dany huffs bitterly, thinking about how she’s paying for the misfortune of having him as a brother. _ Would he do the same for me? _She wonders, hoping that he would, hoping that there is someone out there, in this big world that would help her, take care of her no matter what. 

_ ‘I had the two of you so neither would be alone, so that you would always have each other,’ _ she remembers her mother’s words of long ago and God, how she wishes they were true. They aren’t now, nor were they ever. 

Dany wipes at the single tear that managed to cut across her cheek and shakes her head, removing the memories of her brother. Instead, she thinks of him in more realistic, practical terms. It’s been a while since he’s been around looking for money, and she hopes the lucky streak won’t break any time soon. 

_ Maybe he’s finally gotten back on his feet_, she thinks, _ or maybe he’s strapped and stranded in some foreign country, or some foreign prison_. The latter offers her the most freedom, but even after everything that had transpired between them, a part of her still longs for that brotherly love and support her mother had spoken of, and so, she hopes for the former to be true. 

With Viserys’ 500 euros lining her pockets, Dany makes her way to the shop she’s been working at. It’s her day off, and more excitedly, it’s her last day, for she’s about to hand in her resignation. There is no point in keeping the job, the monthly allowance Jorah is giving her adds up to almost half a year’s pay. And she couldn’t keep the job even if she wanted to, (which she doesn’t) for with it and with her classes, she wouldn’t have any time for him. 

As she leaves the store, a spring in her step at the thought of not having to fold the same table of shirts and pants a dozen times a day only to watch them be ruined by shitty customers, Dany glances at her phone, wondering when Jorah will text again. When she’ll see him again. 

There’s a question she needs answers to.

—Tuesday—

Dany thinks she must have glanced at her phone about 148 times today. She’s gotten plenty of texts from Doreah, some from Missandei, a few from a couple of classmates, but none from Jorah. And so she waits. And waits, and waits some more, until she’s tired of waiting.

Dany rereads the text messages as she chews on her bottom lip. The conversation hadn’t gone as she thought it would. She didn’t think he'd be out of the county and she had hoped for a firm date. But more importantly, she thought he would have at least chatted with her. 

Dany grunts and puts her phone away.

_ Shite. _

—Thursday—

When a thousand colorful bulbs light up in her mind's eyes again, when she remembers those lights’ mesmerizing dance in Jorah’s ocean-blue eyes, Daenerys reaches for her phone with intent. She must know the answer to her question.

_ Will I feel the same again? _

Will the warmth radiating from his hand settle in her belly again, will his gaze freeze her where she stands?

She is about 95% sure that the answer is no. _No, it won’t, _ but she has to know for sure.

As she starts typing, Danny decides that she must have had something bad to eat, for her tummy does a little tumble.

There is no answer to her texts. Two days have passed and no text from him, not even replies to her questions.

_ Good job, Danerys_, she admonishes herself with a facepalm, _ good job sounding like an absolute rambling idiot. _ Dany grunts as she lets herself fall on her bed, feeling embarrassed and wondering if this emotion will be the dominant one in her _relationship _with Jorah. 

_ Arrangement! _ She corrects herself almost instantly, for _relationship _is not what this is. 

_ Arrangement. _

—Friday—

Dany looks at the phone screen as her eyebrows spell out her inner thoughts. 

1,250 Euros worth of days had passed since she'd last seen Jorah and she's done absolutely nothing for that money. She should be pleased with the development. 

She _would _be, if it weren’t for all the times her mind had replied snippets of their date. The instant he had taken her hand in his and she had felt warmth radiating from the place where they connected. And the moment right before the red wine mishap, where their eyes had locked and time stopped and reality blurred at the edges like a vignette photo, leaving only him in focus. 

Dany groaned, annoyed by her thoughts. She sounded like a teenager with a crush and hated it. 

_Yes, he’s tall and fit and handsome, and that rumble in his voice settled in very inappropriate places._ _Or very appropriate_, she corrects herself. _But there’s nothing more than that! _

_It was just the newness of it all, the possibility of money, first date jitters, and that amalgam __made me feel things I wouldn’t have otherwise._

_ Yes, that’s it, I’m sure! _She decided. 

A moment later, she thought better of it.

_ I’m… 90% sure. _

She needed to see him again.

*

A few hours later, finding herself with nothing much to do this weekend, Dany decides against her better judgment that she should tell Missandei about … the_ arrangement_. 

_It’s the proper thing to do._

Her friend and also, more importantly, flatmate is bound to ask questions. Many questions, always annoyingly observant and pertinent ones. She can hear some of them now, ringing between her ears in Missandei's voice:

_'Why aren't you going to work?'_

_'What do you mean you quit? How are we gonna pay rent?_'

Dany grabs her phone and starts texting Doreah, asking for help in the matter. She needs her friend as a sort of middle man, but she's got an ulterior motive too. Dealing with her friends sometimes truly feels as if herding cats. She cares dearly both of her _cats_, but she's had about enough of them being skittish around the other (Missandei), or hissing at the other (Doreah). 

It's past time they got along

—Saturday—

Dany glances over her wine glass at her two friends whom she had forced to congregate, and the words _oil and vinegar _pop into her mind. Doreah is on her phone, looking bored, while Missandei, (who is sitting as far from Doreah as it's humanly possible on the medium-sized couch,) is looking around as if searching for the _exit _sign. It doesn’t take a psychic to know that neither wants to be here.

_ We need more alcohol! _ Dany decides, determined to turn them into friends, or at least pals by the time the night is over. “Who needs a refill?” She asks, her voice chirpy.

“Me!” Doreah exclaims, all of a sudden looking alive again.

“I’m still working on my first,” Missandei says, glancing at her not even half-empty glass. 

“Actually, I have a better idea. We should do shots!” Dany corrects herself.

“No, I don’t think—” Missandei objects.

“Yes!” Doreah counters with real excitement, “what should we do? Vodka, tequila?”

“Tequila!” Dany says, her eyes lighting up. 

“I don’t think shots are the best idea.” Missandei manages to finish her interrupted sentence.

“Of course you don’t, you’re no fun.” Doreah retorts playfully, but Missandei’s nostrils flare as she gives her a sharp look.

“Dany, grab the tequila. I’ll grab the salt and lime,” Missandei says a moment later as she lifts herself off her seat and walks to the kitchen.

There’s a smile and some excitement on Dany’s face as she exchanges a puzzled look with Doreah, then gets up to fetch the bottle of tequila. 

_ Yes! Things are looking up. _

Dany places the bottle of Patron on the coffee table, right between the three shot glasses, the plate of lime slices and the salt shaker. 

“We should play _ Never Have I Ever _!” 

“Oh! That’s not a bad idea,” Missandei says, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. 

“Now you’re just trying to get me drunk, _Miss Never Have I Ever Done Anything_,” Doreah objects. 

Dany snorts, then pours the drinks, making sure to only fill the shot glasses halfway. They’re here to have fun, not to get hammered. 

“Then, you start,” Dany says, offering the first glass to Doreah, then another to Missandei, then finally picks up her own.

“I don’t even know what to say…” Doreah acknowledges with a frown. 

“Is it because you’ve done everything and everyone under the sun?”

“Hey!” Doreah objects.

“Fine, I’ll start,” Dany says, “Never have I ever dated two guys at the same time.”

“Down the hatch!” Doreah says, then takes her shot, and to their surprise, Missandei takes a shot too, her nose wrinkling at the taste of it. 

“No way!” Both Dany and Doreah say, their eyes wide and on Missandei.

“You said date, not other_ … things_.”

“My respect for you just went up like half a notch,” Doreah offers and all three girls chuckle. 

“Okay… let me think,” Doreah says as she grabs the bottle and refills the glasses, also halfway up. “Never have I ever joined the mile-high club.”

No one takes a drink. 

“I definitely thought you were a long-standing member,” Missandei confesses. 

“Same,” Dany adds.

“See, I’m not as wild as you think!” 

“You are!” Both Missandei and Dany say at the same time and the three laugh again. 

It’s Missandei’s turn now, so with the glass to her lips, a little sheepishly, she says, “Never have I ever had to fake an orgasm.”

Dany and Doreah look at each other, surprised by the nature of Missandei’s question, then guzzle down their shots. 

“Not even once?” Dany asks as she puts her glass down.

“No.”

“How?”

Missandei shrugs. 

“Torgo?” Dany asks.

“Who else?”

“Oh my God, I knew it!” Doreah says clapping her hands together, “I knew it! You have that ‘_only had one dick in my entire life’ _look about you.”

“Doreah!” Dany objects, slapping her friend’s arm.

“No, no, hear me out! It’s not necessarily a bad thing.” Doreah counters, “It would be bad if… you know... it were _bad dick_, but it’s not so— Damn, not even once?”

Missandei shakes her head.

“You go, girl!” Doreah says as she offers her hand for a high five. Missandei gives her back a half-limp one, “Or should I say you go, Torgo?!” 

“What have _we_ been doing wrong?” Dany wonders out loud.

Doreah refills her glass as she says, “You, you’re too afraid you’ll hurt a guy’s feelings to demand to be taken care of. And as for me—” she takes another shot of Patron, “it’s an occupational hazard. You’ll see what I’m talking about soon enough.”

Dany’s eyes bulge and she's kicking at Doreah’s feet as discreetly as she possibly can, which is not very.

“What?” Missandei asks, looking from Doreah to Dany.

“What?” Dany replies because she can’t think of anything better to say. It’s too early, nobody is drunk or tipsy enough for this conversation. Especially her, so she follows in Doreah’s steps and takes another shot.

“Tell her,” Doreah says and Dany would love nothing more than to throw something at her friend. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

Missandei’s eyes move between them and Dany is almost certain that she can see the cogs turning in her friend’s head. 

_ Shit. _

“Fine,_ I’ll _tell her,” Doreah says matter of factly. “She’s gonna be seeing this dude who’s compensating her for her time. I don’t know why that’s such a big deal, but whatever.”

“You’re… you’re… ” Missandei looks like a frozen computer, stuck on the same task, unable to move from it. 

“No!” Dany says instantly and she’s not even sure what she’s denying. “I mean, yeah… I’m seeing him, and he’s…he’s— there’s an arrangement, an allowance… ” 

“You sleeping with him for money?”

“No!” Dany objects.

“Not yet,” Doreah adds as she refills the empty glasses and Dany wants to kick her again.

“It’s… Oh, God. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Dany says lowering her eyes, feeling the tip of her ears burning and her stomach turning. 

“Urgh,” Doreah groans, “can you all just stop making a mountain out of a molehill, please! Look, it’s simple, Dany is a hot, young woman in need of money, that guy has money and wants her. It’s a story as old as time, the same story that has been played out a million times over.”

“That’s not—” Missandei starts.

“That’s not what? Thousands of generations of arranged marriages where the woman has absolutely no say and nobody bats an eyelash, but as soon as you give the woman agency and she gets to decide what she wants to do with her time and body—while being generously compensated might I add—all of a sudden the moral police comes barging in. Come on!” Doreah says.

Missandei thinks for a moment, then says, “You’ve done this before haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Doreah answers, “haven’t flaunted it, but haven’t hidden it either.” 

“Is it as black and white as you make it seem?”

Doreah hands everyone their glasses, “Few things are black and white in life, and yeah, the men can be assholes sometimes but guess what, _ all men _can be assholes sometimes, and we put up with their shit for free. And with these types of arrangements, the money is really good, like almost life-changing good." Doreah lets out an audible breath, "Look… nobody’s gonna force her to do things she doesn’t wanna do, she’ll be safe, and the guy seems so damn vanilla.” 

Missandei takes a shot, then puts the glass back on the table, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Dany asks, surprised by the word. 

“You’re a smart, adult woman who's made her choice… what can I say?”

“Good luck and may you strike gold?” Doreah offers and they all chuckle. “Okay,” she adds, refilling the shot glasses yet again, “Never have I ever had a threesome. But it’s on my to-do list!”

*

Dany is not sure what silly joke set it off, but she watches with a full smile on her face as her friends laugh wholeheartedly, leaning on each other. They’re tipsy. They’re all tipsy and happy and Dany thinks there is nowhere else she'll rather be, nor is there anything that could make this night even better.

And then her phone dings.

Dany looks up from her phone at her friends, laughing with each other, not at each other for the first time and her heart warms at the sight. 

She curses herself inside her head for how fast her tune had changed and how she had not thought things through before answering Jorah’s texts. She should stay with her friends and continue their girls’ night. She should, she wants to, she really does, but it’s been a week since she’d seen him last, a week in which she had done nothing for the money, so she feels a little guilty, but mainly, she wants to see him so she can finally find the answer to her question. 

Her fingers glide over the phone’s virtual keypad as she settles on the nicest street around, one 4 blocks away from her house. 

Jorah lets her know that he’ll be there in less than half an hour.

“I have to go,” Dany says lifting herself from the seat, and while she is not drunk, as she gets up she can definitely feel the effects of the alcohol. 

_Shit! _

“What?” Doreah asks, with a surprised look on her face.

“Where are you going?” Missandei adds.

“Out. For a walk, with Jorah.” Dany says, sounding a bit more excited than she’d like to be.

“Jorah?” Missandei asks.

“The guy she’s _seeing_.”

“Oh. OH!” Missandei says, her eyes wide.

“No, you’re not going! We’re having fun! Just tell him you’re busy!” Doreah objects. 

“I… I already said yes.”

“Tell him… something came up,” Missandei offers.

“Yeah, say you’ve changed your mind, it’s late and dark.” 

“But… I _ want _ to go.”

“You… _want_ to go?” Doreah asks with a frown, “Miss '_a public place with lots of light at noon'_ wants to go out in the dead of night?”

“Yes… ” Dany says sheepishly. 

Doreah blinks at that, then turns to Missandei, they share the same perplexed between them. 

“So, you’re ditching us?”

“I’m so sorry, really, I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Dany says as she walks into the nearby bathroom, leaving the door open. 

“You’re ditching us for a dude?” She hears Doreah shout from the other room as she brushes her teeth, “_you_ brought us together and you’re ditching us for a _dude_?” 

“I’m sorry!” Dany says again, then says nothing more as she washes her face, already feeling a bit soberer. 

“What should I wear?” She asks, coming out of the bathroom. “Is this cute enough?” She’s wearing a slim fit pair of jeans and a simple, white t-shirt. 

Doreah puffs and rolls her eyes, seemingly still upset by the development.

“You look fine,” Missandei assures her, “but grab a jacket, it’s cold outside.”

“Thanks, guys! Okay, I’m off… again, sorry, I’ll make it up to you, I will, promise!”

“Whatever!” Doreah mutters under her breath. 

Dany is halfway out the door as Doreah hoots out, “by the time you’re back Missy and I are gonna be best friends and you’ll be the third wheel!”

The door closes and the two are left alone.

“I thought this was just about money,” Missandei says.

Doreah chews on her bottom lip, “Yeah… ”

“She seemed a little too excited and eager to leave.”

“Aha… ”

“What if she falls for him?”

Doreah keeps chewing on her lip as if debating in her head, “She won’t,” she finally says, “our Dany doesn’t _ do _ love, remember? Worst-case scenario, she’s developing a little crush.”

Missandei's eyes are still lingering on the front door, “Yeah…” she says, sounding pensive. 

*

Dany is almost at the meeting place, one right turn and she’ll be there. She doesn't think herself nervous, but she does curse herself for having too much to drink as something rolls and tumbles inside her belly like a lost sock in a dryer drum. 

She stops right before the corner and readies herself, taking one deep breath, then another. With her chin up and her back straight, Dany turns the corner and sees him, tall and fit, leaning on the street lamp, looking like he just came out of an ad for some outrageously expensive watch or cologne. And just like that, the loose sock inside her belly does another tumble and a roll. 

He’s out of his suit tonight, instead, he’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a leather jacket, and the lamplight catches his features in such a way that his cheekbones and jawline look freshly chiseled out of marble by talented hands.

_ Fuck! _

_ Okay… 85% sure! _

He hasn’t seen her yet, his eyes are still on his phone and Dany is thankful for it.

_ What do I do? _

_ What do I say? _

_ Do I shake his hand, give him a hug, kiss his cheek? _

_ What do I do? _

Jorah turns and his lips twist in a smile at the sight of her; Dany’s lips turn upwards too. 

“Hi,” he says, pocketing the phone as soon as she reaches him.

“Hi,” she says as she fumbles with her hands, not sure what to do with them.

“How are you?” He says, not asking for her hand to shake, not reaching for a hug either. 

“I’m good… How are you? You’re back early. How was the trip? ” Dany asks as she fidgets on the spot, not sure what to do with her whole self.

To her delight, Jorah starts walking and Dany joins in the steady, almost lazy rhythm of his feet. She doesn’t ask where they’re going as their feet stroll the unremarkable, almost empty streets, she doesn’t even care if there is a destination.

“The trip,” Jorah huffs and he’s silent for a while, but then he adds, “I'd rather not talk about it if you don’t mind.”

“Not good?” Dany blurts out before she can stop herself. 

Jorah shakes his head, “Not good.” 

“What about Frankfurt, how was that? Do you like the city? I’ve never been to Germany. I’ve never been much of anywhere besides Greece and I guess, around the country, but I haven’t really been around the country either, not in years.” She says in one breath and instantly wishes she were less of a chatterbox when nervous.

_ Oh, shit! I am nervous_, she realizes and her tummy rolls again. 

“Frankfurt was… productive and busy. But, I still managed to take a walk in the Museumsufer, the museum district, on the banks of the Main River. It’s a beautiful place, especially now, in spring, when the trees are waking up and filling up with popcorn”

“Popcorn?”

“When they blossom, their flowers look like popcorn to me.” 

“Huh, I guess they do.”

“I think you’d love it there,” Jorah says looking at her, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Dany smiles back, “I think I would too.” 

They walk in silence as Dany’s mind busies itself trying to figure out the best way to find the answer to her question.

It’s not looking particularly good for her, nervous as she is, but there is still hope, for the world has not blurred out yet and she still doesn’t know if her hand in his is going to make her feel anything this time around. But she’ll be damned if she’s not going to find out tonight.

Dany wishes the liquid courage still running through her veins were enough to just grab his hand and get it over with. It’s not. 

But.. his hand is so close to hers, one swaying past the other as they walk, it would be so easy for their hands to _accidentally_ bump into each other. One, twice, thrice and maybe then he’ll get the hint, maybe then he’ll take her hand in his and she’ll finally know. 

“What other places have you been to, except Germany?” Dany says as she sets her plan into motion.

“I’ve been to all the places you know the languages of, France, Italy, Portugal, Spain, Greece, and several others.”

“Do tell,” she says as she makes sure that the back of her knuckles fly over his hand, trying to ignore the pounding in her ear as she does.

Jorah seems to notice, for he babbles for a moment, “Uhm… there’s…. Holland, Belgium, Croatia, Austria.”

“What about outside of Europe?”

“USA, Japan, China, Australia, South Africa, the Emirates.”

“A real globetrotter.”

“Some of the trips were for business, not pleasure.” 

Dany turns her body to him, sidestepping as she asks, “What’s your favorite place? Out of all the places you’ve been, what’s the one place you wish to return to?”

“I don’t think I’ve thought about it much, I—” Her fingers brush his again and words stop leaving his mouth. Jorah swallows then continues, “I… don’t know… there are a few places that have a familiarity to them, that bring comfort, but—” This time it’s the back of his hand that slides against hers and Dany’s heart skips a beat, “—I wouldn’t call them my favorite.”

They are both silent for a moment, then Jorah chuckles softly, “This might sound strange, maybe even pretentious, and I don’t mean it that way, I don’t but… my favorite _ places _ are moments in time.”

“What do you mean?”

“The perfect sunset on a beach after spending hours walking the sandy ocean shores; catching a glimpse of a pride of lions by the side of the road; a helicopter ride over the Na Pali coast… Those are the _ places _ I wish to return to. But I can’t. Even if I were to go to Kauai right now, the helicopter ride will never be the same as the first time.”

“So… you like new things, but you get bored of them easily?” Dany ventures. 

“No, not at all. It’s just that moments, well some of them, are not relivable. They come and they go and they leave you with the memory, but you can never go back to that moment in time, because you’re not the same person you were then and the multitude of things that had to happen for that moment to exist will not come together in the same way.” 

“That’s very—”

“Pretentious?”

“No. Well maybe a little,” Dany chuckles, “but I was going to say… _ romantic_, and… true.” 

There’s another moment of silence as she chews on his words, remembering one, singular moment from her childhood.

It’s her seventh birthday and her brother, (who has stopped playing with her long ago, for he is big now, and fourteen-year-olds no longer play with their stupid, baby sisters, or so he has told her,) has given her a stuffed toy. It’s a rabbit, fluffy and light-grey colored, with big, floppy ears and a pale pink nose and dark eyes. And he’s the softest toy her hands have ever held and he smells new and good and comforting, and her tiny arms wrap around him and she’s hugging him and he’s the best present she’s ever gotten. And yet, the best part is that that big brother of hers, whom she loves, plays with her and with her toy rabbit that day. That silly rabbit who she names Viserion, because_ her brother _ had given it to her and because _ her brother _ had played with her. Yet, she’ll never dare tell Viserys his name.

“We spend a lot of time in search of those moments, don’t we?” Dany says trying to ignore the sting in her eyes and the cavernous emptiness of her soul, trying to drive away from her memory all the times she had tried to recapture that moment of love and connection with her brother. 

“We do.”

“And it’s a fool’s errand.” She adds, and the memories she has tried all her life to repress, come rushing in. 

She’s eight and a half and her mother has just died and Viserys yanks her tear-stained Viserion out of her hands and screams at her to stop crying. She gathers him off the floor as soon as Viserys leaves, and then she gathers herself, wiping her tears and her snot on the back of her sleeve as a hand presses her only friend to her chest, to her heart. 

Her father is nowhere to be seen.

She’s thirteen, her mother has been dead for years, and Viserion’s fur is a few shades darker and blotchy from all the nights she had cried herself to sleep, face buried in his pelt and the ones where she has slept with him in her arms, imagining her mother next to her. Her father has just died and she’s broken again, but not as bad as with her mother, for the head of the Targaryen family had never been there for his children. Yet, she still cries, and Viserion still gives her the comfort that no one else would. And then Viserys yanks him out of her hands again, shouting at her that it’s time to grow up, for he can’t take care of a child. And to her horror, he throws Viserion into the fireplace of the house they will soon lose, and Dany wails and balls her eyes out watching the fire turn her beloved friend to ashes. But Viserys' method works, the last of her innocence is gone that day. 

It’s also on that day that she vows to never truly love anything again, for everyone she loves abandons her one way or the other or hurts her, and if you don’t love anyone or anything, then you’re safe, then, you can’t get hurt.

Jorah’s fingers brush against hers again and she’s startled by the act, but without realizing, her fingers cling to his. She is drowning in the sorrow of her memories and she needs to cling to something, to someone and bring herself back to shore. 

Her small hand is lost in his much larger one as he properly wraps hers in his, and Dany has the answer she's been waiting on for a week. She stops and turns her eyes to him, just as he does, and the world is dark and he is the only thing in it illuminated and warmth travels up her arm again but this time, it warms not just her body, but her soul, kindling the cold, dark corners of it, chasing away the memories of long ago. 

_Oh!_ She thinks, unable to think anything else. Her answer is not an explosive new discovery, it's not the apple falling from the tree on Newton's head, it's the fundamental formula that has existed since the beginning of time, waiting quietly to be revealed. 

_‘Are you okay?’_ He seems to be asking without words, with just his eyes. Dany nods as the smallest of smiles pulls at her lips. _I... I am._

Jorah nods too, and their feet start moving again, this time in perfect harmony as their linked hands sway gently between them. 

_Zero percent_, she finally manages to think a while later, as she feels herself coming back to herself, as she emerges from the haze of him.

_No, minus 100 percent. _The thought scares her, half of her is petrified with fear, yet frantically looking for an escape. She needs to hide away from whatever this is, to yank her hand out of his, to protect herself from _it,_ from him. The other half has never felt safer, more content.

"Where did you go just then?" He asks his voice soft and low and Dany quiets that fearful part of her.

"In the past."

"Do you spend much time there?"

"Not if I can help it."

Jorah huffs, a bitter, knowing smile crossing his lips. 

"My family... they weren't... I didn't have much of one, not since I was around eight." 

Jorah's eyebrows turn upwards at the sound.

"Not since my mom died, then a few years later my dad and..." she doesn't know why the words start flowing out of her but she can't stop them, "...and I was left with Viserys, my bother. He raised me from the time I was thirteen until... well, until the day I was old enough to leave. If raising is the proper word for what he did." 

"What do you mean?" He asks, his voice laden with concern. 

"He kept a roof over my head, fed me, clothed me when he could afford it." Dany shakes her head, trying to get it out of the memories, "He... he was a 20-year-old taking care of a thirteen-year-old, he didn't want to, didn't know how to... and sometimes... sometimes it got so bad I wished he would just drop me off at social services. He never did, though."

Jorah's thumb brushes over the back of her hand once and Dany looks up at him just long enough to see a mishmash of emotions playing on his face. She lowers her eyes before she can decipher them. "I... I don't blame him. Not really. He was young and he lost his parents too, and we had no home and no money and all of a sudden he had to raise me. I was a burden, I... ruined his life." 

"You weren't a burden, you were a child," Jorah says, and a knot so large and so painful forms inside her throat that Dany can barely speak.

She swallows around that knot once, twice, until she can make room for her words to leave, "Maybe we ruined each other's lives, I was his burned then, he is mine now."

"How so?" He asks, but Dany doesn't answer, instead, she shakes her head and settles her eyes on the pavement ahead.

It's gotten much darken and colder, and the streets are much emptier and quieter, and she likes it this way. The air is so crisp that it actually smells like_ air_, the sort of air she inhaled in an olive grove on a moonless night, not the exhaust fumes mixed with the greasy aromas of dozens of cuisines and the filth of the city. She doesn't know how long they've been walking and she's not sure what street she's on, or how far she is from home, but none of those things worry her for his warmth still lingers in her soul, appeasing all her fears. 

"There's nobody that can make you feel quite as horrible as family can," Jorah says and her eyes turn to him. "Nobody that can pick at an old scab so thoroughly only to pour salt water over the raw flesh." 

Dany casts down her eyes again, remembering all the times Viserys has come around looking for money, making her feel worthless and useless, a feeling that always lingers for days after he leaves.

Jorah huffs again, "Family, home... both the one you were born into and the one you choose for yourself... they're supposed to be your shelter, refuge, not—"

He's quiet again and Dany watches as he casts his eyes down on the pavement.

"There's a part of me that never wants to go back home, to Bear Island, while the other foolishly wishes that _this time_ it will different, that this time the old wounds of the past will heal further instead of being ripped open. If I were less of a fool I would've learned my lesson by now."

"It takes courage... doing it again and again, knowing the likely outcome, yet still trying."

"I don't know about courage... obligation would be a better word."

"Your trip?" Dany ventures.

Jorah nods.

"Who did you not want to see?" She asks, remembering his texts from yesterday and this time it doesn't feel like she's prying or intruding and she's not sure what has changed.

"My father.

"I made a mistake five years ago—I've made _many_ mistakes then. I told you... I almost let 500 years of history slip through my fingers... I know I failed, I know I deserved his disdain then... I just foolishly keep wishing that..." Jorah huffs again and shakes his head, "it's so silly, I'm a grown man, and yet I still wish for my father to look at me the way he used to before all of this. To see his chest swell up with pride, to see that same emotion in his eyes at all that I've accomplished in these five years. I look for it each time, knowing full well that all I'll ever see is contempt." 

Dany's lips press together as her thumb caresses his fingers and Jorah turns to her, their eyes finding each other. There are no words inside her head, or on the tip of her tongue that she could turn to balm. She knows of none. But her thumb caresses his fingers, and his thumb now rolls over her knuckles and there is no need for words. Their eyes say all that their mouths can not, know not. 

A thin, crooked smile crosses his face as his hand squeezes hers gently. That warmth inside Dany turns ablaze. 

"Right," Jorah says, turning his eyes from hers and swallowing."How... how was _your_ week?" He asks and Dany tells him.

It's well past 1 in the morning and a cold breeze sweeps lazily through the now empty streets, picking up a long-lost plastic bag, swirling it around a few times, then depositing further down the pavement. Neither one notices its dance. Dany's body is leaning towards Jorah's, their arms touching. She's not cold, not on the inside, but the chill nips at her nose and her cheeks, at the tips of her ears, turning them redder.

They're chuckling together at a silly thing she said, their subdued laughter and the tips and taps of their feet the only sounds breaking the tomb-like quiet of the sleeping city. And they're shushing each other, like two children laughing under a blanket, afraid that their parents will come in and force them to go to sleep, afraid that they might wake up a city that now seems to be only theirs. 

Dany casts her eyes away from him enough to notice that they're on her street. They've wandered the maze-like pattern of her neighborhood until her feet found their way back home. The thought displeases her, for she doesn't want this night to end, not yet, just a little while longer. But then a picture forms inside her head, the two of them on the tiny landing in front of her house, saying their goodbyes, him leaning down towards her lips, her lifting herself up on the tip of her toes to meet his, their lips touching, her mouth opening for him, his tongue tasting her... A shiver travels down her spine and settles somewhere in her belly and further down. 

_Yes. _She likes that, she wants that. She lets her feet guide her home.

"This is me," Dany says a while later, in front of a two-story 1900's upper-middle-class family home. The house still retains a smidge of its former charm, but it's buried under half a century of dirt and grime. Nonetheless, it would have made a nice family home if it had not been turned into four tiny apartments some thirty years ago. Hers and Missandei's lays on the first floor, to the right of the landing. There are no lights on anywhere in the house, everyone seems to be asleep. 

"Oh," Jorah says looking up at her house, sounding disappointed and Dany smiles under her whiskers.

Their hands are still holding on to each other as Dany climbs the first step in a set of seven that lead from the pavement to the front door. 

“I had a lovely time," she says as she squeezes his hand once, then lets it go.

Jorah rubs the fingers on his now free hand together. "I've had a lovely time too." 

Dany smiles at him, then takes the next step backward, her body still turned to him. “Walk me to the door?” She asks, then presses her bottom lip between her teeth. 

Jorah, chuckles, climbing the first step, “I should, yes. You never know what dangers might befall you on this perilous journey.”

Dany takes another step up, "I might fall," she says, climbing backward. "You might need to catch me." 

"That, I might," he says taking another step of his own, looking up into her eyes as he does. 

A moment later, they are out of steps, standing together on the word’s smallest landing, their bodies almost touching.

"When will I see you again? She asks.

"As soon as I can," he says and she can feel his breath on her skin.

"Well, th—" Dany starts, then stops, for Jorah’s hand is reaching up towards her cheek. There’s a strand of blonde hair between his fingers and she watches out of the corner of her eye as he slowly, agonizingly slow places it behind her ear, the tip of his fingers sliding across her skin, making her cheeks burn. A little puff of air leaves Dany’s lips without permission.

The palm of his hand is cupping her cheek while his fingers are in her hair.

_Yes!_

He’s inching closer to her and she can feel her heart pounding in her chest and echoing in her ears.

She can almost picture the feel of his lips on hers and her eyes close while her lips part, waiting for him.

_Yes! _

His lips reach her and she feels their light pressure on her cheek.

Dany blinks herself out of her daydreaming.

_What?_

_No! _

_Not the cheek!_

"Good night, Daenerys," he says as he pulls away, his hand leaving her face with one last brush of fingertips.

Dany blinks again, her mouth still half-open, still waiting for her kiss. 

Jorah turns and walks down the short flight of stairs. He gives her a little smile as he reaches the pavement, then turns and leaves. 

Dany blinks once again, absolutely dumbfounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Viserion  
_  



	6. Best laid plans of mice and men

Not wanting to wake Missandei, Dany makes sure she’s as quiet as possible as she slides her key into the apartment door, then presses it shut with her back. She tarries there for a while, her eyes closed, the tips of her fingers on her cheek, right where his lips had been.

Her fingers slide down to the arch of her lips, then the full of them, wishing _his _lips would have followed the same trail. 

_ Why didn’t they? _

She would have opened her mouth for him, she would have tasted his with her tongue, she would've— 

_ Fuck! _ Dany shakes her head, trying to come back to her senses. 

She manages to simmer down, but her mind drifts to her hand in his and how it all felt like too much and at the same time… just enough. Both those feelings are brand new and…_ scary_.

_ I’m in danger_.

Inside her mind’s eyes, she sees herself on the shores of the Aegean, the teal water is now a dark blue sprinkled with flecks of silvers cast by the moon. Her toes curl around wet sand, her ankles caressed by the still-warm sea. There’s a wave in the distance, new and tall, and making its way towards the shore, towards her. 

_ Do I turn and run? _

_ Or do I swim? _

For the first time, she doesn’t know the answer. All her life she had turned and ran happily towards safety, but now… 

Dany grunts and the sound is much louder than she expected it. Their home is still and quiet, so Dany leaves her thoughts behind and tiptoes into her bedroom, finally ready to leave this whole night behind. 

She’s half surprised to see Doreah sleeping in her bed, curled to her side, little puffs of air leaving her mouth with every exhale. 

A little smile tugs at Dany’s lips knowing that Doreah would've left if she and Missandei hadn't gotten along after being left alone. 

_ The plan worked, _Dany thinks as she slides out of her clothes and into an old t-shirt and pajama bottoms, her mind switching from her date to her friends, wondering just how well they ended up getting along. 

“How was your date?” Doreah asks in a low sleep-heavy voice, not bothering to lift her head off the pillow.

Dany climbs into bed and slithers under the same covers, “You’re awake,” she says, draping an arm over her friend and cuddling closer. 

Doreah is the crazy baby sister she’s never had, while Missandei is the older responsible sister she’s never had, and she wants to tell them the whole story, wants to share her fears… That there’s something about him, and that _ that something _ has already wiggled its tail between her walls and the mere thought of it is absolutely terrifying but also… not at all. And the _ not at all _ part might just be the worst part of it. No, the worst part is that all of this might just be all in her head and none of it in his— _ After all, he didn’t even kiss me. _

But Dany says none of those things because normal people don’t have these sorts of questions and fears after the first date, nor the second. Normal people spend weeks and months dating before such thoughts even occur to them. 

And moreover, none of this is _ normal _, what she has with Jorah is not the budding of a relationship, but just an arrangement. And she knows that Doreah would scold her for even thinking otherwise, just as Missandei would. 

“It was good,” Dany says and it’s no lie, but it’s also a half-truth. “How was girls' night without me?” 

“Missandei and I are best friends now,” Doreah mumbles, “and you’re the third wheel.”

Dany chuckles softly, “Understandable,” she says, then presses closer to the warmth of her. She likes the soft feel of her friend’s skin under her arm and the familiar comforting smell of her. Doreah is a little piece of home. She is _safe_.

“Goodnight,” Dany whispers and Doreah mumbles something similar. 

As she drifts away, Dany finds herself back on the sand. 

The wave reaches closer.

_ I should run. It might drown me. _

_ But what if I swim? _

*

The morning after her date, Dany wakes up with the realization that holding hands and feeling… _ what-ever-the-hell-that-was _is not solid enough proof that there’s really something between her and Jorah. 

_ It was just nerves, jitters, _she decides over breakfast.

_ I was just… feeling vulnerable, _ she realizes over lunch. 

_ I need more proof_, she concludes after dinner. 

As she climbs into bed for the night, Dany is surer than ever that all three of her epiphanies are canon. _ It was just a moment of weakness that led to… whatever that was_. If she hadn’t let her mind wander back into the past, if it were not for those memories rushing in like whitewater she wouldn’t have clung to him like that and he wouldn’t have felt like… _ Danger and safety all at the same time. _

_ I need more proof, _ she reminds herself again and decides that a kiss, a proper one, would give her the unequivocal evidence she craves. 

A kiss is always a good Litmus test. It was the deciding factor in her hooking up with Drogo, (even more than the lap dance), and later, with Daario, and sometimes during class, she has found herself looking over at Jon and daydreaming of the way his lips would feel on hers. 

But this is not about any of those men, and this time she’s picturing lips and tongues and maybe even teeth, hands cupping cheeks and fingers coiled in hair, bodies pressed together as close as they’d go, a leg wrapped around a waist, hips grinding— 

_ Fuck! _ The mere picture makes her toes curl around her bedsheets. She wants him, but that’s no news. Want is one thing. _ That_, she knows, that, she can work with or under, or on top, or— _ STOP IT! _

A few long exhales later, a less wound up Dany decides that a proper kiss will tell her all she needs to know. And so, she makes that her new objective. She’s going to get her way the next time she sees him, she’ll make it happen. 

_ Soon, _ Dany thinks, a smile blossoming further on her lips as her eyes lit up. 

She slides down under the covers and grabs her phone. Her fingers rapidly slide over the keyboard, “How was your day?” She types.

Three blinking grey dots let her know he’s typing back. 

*

The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry and as Daenerys finds out, so do the plans of women-on-a-mission. 

She had hoped they’d see each other again in a day or two, but no such luck. Jorah had proven a man of his word. His schedule turned out to be as hectic as he had mentioned, and things had come up each time they tried to see each other. Things that keep them from being in the same city, or even country for almost two weeks.

Dany’s fingers fly across the virtual keyboard of her phone, typing faster than ever before. The thousands and thousands of messages they had exchanged since last seeing each other had been great practice. And for a busy man, Jorah has found the time to text her back almost as much, which for Daenerys, just about made up for the physical distance between them. Just. 

“Are you coming?” Doreah calls from her seat next to Missandei. The girls are gathered around the small kitchen counter, scrolling through travel site after travel site, trying to find a destination all three of them will agree on. 

“In a minute!” Dany says, ignoring the tone in Doreah’s voice and not even bothering to lift her eyes off the phone’s screen, or her butt off the couch.

Since Dany can actually afford it this year, and since the girls had gotten along surprisingly well after the girls' bonding night, they’re all planning a long weekend getaway. They’re not sure when, or where, and they haven’t really narrowed it down much, but they all have their _ must-haves _. 

It’s got to be somewhere fancy (Doreah). But also ‘down to earth’(Missandei). With good restaurants (Dany). A place where they can slow down, relax and recharge (Missandei and Dany). But also with great nightlife and lots of hot guys (Doreah). 

They have at least managed to agree on a sunny place with beach access, but nothing much beyond that.

“Can you stop ogling at his dick pics for a second and come here!” Doreah demands.

Dany’s eyes snap to her friend and the smile drops from her lips. She drops her phone too, then picks up one of Missandei’s perfectly arranged accent-pillows off the couch. 

“HE HASN’T—” she starts, then hurls the light pink one straight towards Doreah’s head. 

“SENT ME—” the taupe one follows, 

“ANY—” cream-colored, ribbed one, 

“DICK PICS!” The light gray one with the geometrical pattern catches Doreah mid dodge and smacks her right in the head, messing up her perfectly styled hair. 

“Girls!” Missandei objects at the display of adulthood between her friends. 

Doreah combs her fingers through her hair then picks up the same pillow and throws it full strength towards Dany.

The pillow hits its mark, smack dab in the middle of Dany’s face. “Ouch,” she complains, rubbing at her nose.

“Are you quite done?” Missandei asks sounding like a tired mother.

Doreah bats her eyelashes and bares her pearly whites, “Now we are.” 

“Dany?”

“She started it!” Dany complains.

“She’s the one that can’t stop sexting the guy!” Doreah argues, gesturing towards the culprit.

“We’re not _ sexting _!” Dany argues back instantly, but makes her way towards the girls, though not before picking up her phone. 

“What do you text about anyway?” Missandei asks. 

Dany lifts her eyes from the phone’s screen, “Nothing… just silly things,” she lies. 

Doreah gently grabs Dany’s nose between her fingers and rubs it, making it feel better, “Not even one naked pic, not even one sexy text?” She asks with a puzzled tone and a cocked eyebrow. 

“Not one,” Dany admits. 

“Huh,” Doreah huffs, letting go of Dany’s nose and turning back towards the laptop screen. 

Dany wonders if inappropriate pics and sexting are the norm in these sort of… arrangements. She wouldn’t have minded if they had been sexting, though, if she thinks about it more, the idea of getting herself all worked up for nothing is not all that appealing. 

But their text exchanges had been nothing of the sorts. They usually start with silly mundane things that somehow usually dissolve into soul searching and wrenching topics, and before they know it, the dark of night bleeds into the dawn of morning. 

They’ve talked about her family, and how growing up with a brother like hers was like, (though she has kept Viserys visits to herself.) They talked about his family, how he has a sister and a teenage niece with whom he gets along well, a father he barely talks to, (though he would love nothing more than to regain his respect,) and a mother he lost when he was not much older than she had been when she lost her mom.   
They talked about hopes and dreams, about fears and anxieties. About the past and the future and everything in between. 

Dany finds it curious how he, this _stranger _ for all intents and purposes, might just know her better than anyone else. She has spent her life breaking herself into little pieces so that no one would know her fully, so that no one could _see_ all of her. Her friends and family had only been shown carefully selected pieces and the odd crumb that sometimes breaks away before she can catch it. 

_Yet I've shown him so many. _And she's not sure why, maybe it's easier to bare herself to a stranger, maybe it's something else, or maybe a bit of both. All she knows for sure is that he's got enough pieces of her to start truly seeing her. 

It's a strange feeling, being known. It's all so new and terrifying, yet somehow, also comforting.

“So, I was thinking Ibiza,” Doreah interrupts her thoughts, “but Missandei is leaning towards Italy. Where do _ you _ wanna go?”

*

It's four in the morning for Dany and just past dinner time for Jorah and she's still typing away on her phone's screen, just as she's done for the past three hours. There's a smile on her lips and a pleasant warmth inside her chest, but more importantly, there's that sought after feeling of balance, of _peace, _as if all were right in the world. It's a stupid thing to feel for all is not right in the world, nor is it in her life, or his, but when they text, everything fades away, like a vignette photo, and the only light is just on the other.

Dany actively decides not to think of what that means.

Her focus is still on seeing him and getting her kiss, and she finds the whole thing a tricky balancing act, flirting over texts but keeping up a thin veneer of indifference, for she’ll be damned if she shows him she wants him. She'll never tell him how she’d much rather trade the texting for seeing him in person, have her hands cup either side of his face, and just... fucking kiss him already.  
Never. _It's not proper._

Sometimes the balancing act works better than others, sometimes she dips one way or the other, but regardless, each time she does it the _peace_ is gone, replaced by a swarm of newly eclosed butterflies taking flight inside her belly, then migrating to her heart where their flutter goes on and on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a much longer chapter, but I've decided to break it in two because ... reasons 😅
> 
> I'm hoping the next one won't be too far behind, but then this is me typing that so..... 😬😖
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed this little ... _amuse bouche_


	7. Fire and blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news: New Chapter!
> 
> Bad News: Everything else...  
  
  
(don't hate me)  
  
  
  


Dany's ass bolts from the bed right after pressing send on her last text to Jorah and goes straight for the closet. It's almost 5 in the morning and she has classes in about three hours, which she already knows she'll skip, after all, she can always get the notes from Kinvara or Irri, or Jon.

_No, not Jon,_ she decides and finds it a little strange. Not too long ago she would have used any excuse to strike up a conversation with him.

Dany's fingers run over her hangers, picking out dresses and shirts and pants and skirts, trying to decide on what to wear. 

If Doreah were here she would help her, she would tell her what's considered appropriate date attire in this line of _work, _just as she had done the first round, but Dany doesn't want that anymore. She wants to be herself.

Close to two hours and twenty outfit changes later, Dany smiles at her reflection in the narrow mirror hanging over her bedroom door. She has found the perfect ensemble, a pleated, white skirt that stops below her knees and a light blue top. Classy, simple, and just sexy enough.

_Perfect,_ she thinks, ignoring the mental image of Doreah's disapproving eye-roll as she picks up a pair of flats instead of high heels. She _is_ getting her walk home and her damn kiss on the world’s tiniest landing, and maybe, depending on how good the kiss is, she’ll grab him by the lapels and pull him inside her flat and her bedroom and—.

By 8 in the morning, Dany gently snores into her pillow, every part of her outfit hanging over the closet door, ready to be worn tonight.

*

It's well past noon when she finally awakes, blinking away the sleep still clinging to her eyelids and fumbling for her phone, wondering if Jorah had texted her in the meantime.

_Has his flight even landed yet?_

A smile pulls at her lips as she sees well over a dozen new notifications. The back of her hand rubs at an eye then the other, trying to get her vision to focus, eager to read the texts. When it does, her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach, and bile gathers in her mouth.

Her hand shakes on the phone, just as her lips do, just as the tears in her eyes do.

_ **After all I've done for you.** _

_ **Nobody wanted you.** _

_**You ungrateful bitch.** _

She can hear his voice crystal clear inside her head, can hear the cockiness and the empty confidence, and the exact moment it disintegrates into desperation, then into rage. She's heard it all before a thousand times, always the same damn spiel. 

** _I'm sorry, I didn't mean it._ **

She wonders if it's true remorse or just trying to appease her, to get what he wants from her. Deep down she has her answer, she's had it for years, but nevertheless she clings to the hope that there's still a part of him that is good. That he _can_ be better, and that she _can_ forgive and forget all that has transpired between them.

And maybe, maybe, one day she'll have a brother in the true sense of the word.

** _You know how I can get sometimes._ **

She knows all too well, all too damn well. It's the same cycle; the tension, the outburst, the sorries and promises, the hope that this time it will be different. The same wheel of abuse going round and round and round again, and she's always the one trapped and trampled underneath it. 

Nothing changes.

Nothing.

_He's still the same._

_But so am I, _Dany realizes, _I'm still the same scared little girl that would do anything to appease him, the same girl always hoping that next time it will be different, better. _

Dany wipes her eyes of the remaining moisture and looks intently at one gray text bubble. 

** _You ungrateful bitch. _ **

Fire stirs in her belly, the longer she looks at it the more all-consuming it gets. She feeds that fire with years and years of memories of abuse: the belittlings, the insults, and the couple of times he had hit her. 

_Nothing is going to change unless I change it._

She doesn't answer his texts, instead, she deletes the entire conversation, then with a long exhale, and feeling as if she has just unburdened herself of a great weight, Dany blocks his number.

_It's time I broke the wheel._

*

At the sound of her ringing phone, Dany runs out of the bathroom, half wet and wrapped only in a towel and makes a dive for the bed, her fingers stretching to wrap around the phone laying on her one and only nightstand.

Her phone displays Jorah's name and she's already smiling. She can't wait for him to come and get her, to take her out on their date and out of her thoughts, offer her a much needed distraction. 

"Hi!" Dany answers the smile on her face coming out in her voice. She clears her throat to hide it, or at least tone it down, then sits at the edge of her bed.

"Hi," Jorah answers, and his voice pleasantly quakes in her belly. 

"You better not be calling to cancel," Dany says jokingly.

"Actually..." Jorah starts and her heart sinks. "I know is short notice, and I'm truly sorry, but something came up... 

"Something big... If it were _anything_ else I'd—"

"So, you won't be able to make it?" She cuts him off.

"I won't."

"Again," Dany mumbles under her breath low enough so that the words reach only her ears. All the warm feeling that had swum inside her at the sight of his name on her phone's screen and at the sound of his voice die a quick death. 

"I know I promised but it's very important, I—." Jorah huffs into the phone, "I'm going back to the airport right now, I just left the damn place, and here I am, back in the car with the same damn suitcase... I swear, I'm spending half my life in an airport these days."

Dany says nothing, just chews on her bottom lip. 

"Again, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I promise!"

"No, no, it's fine." She says trying to sound convincing and failing. 

"If it weren't important I—"

"No, it's fine! Really!" She lies again wanting nothing more than to get off the phone.

"I'm going up north again, I won't have much phone service there..."

"Aha," she says sounding like a woman that's heard the same excuse one too many times. "Well, good luck on your trip." 

"Thank you..."

"Goodbye." She says before he can say anything else, then hangs up the phone. 

Dany just stands there, at the edge of her bed, wrapped in her soaked towel, water dripping out of her wet hair, utterly deflated. All that time spent picking out an outfit and picturing their date, all her carefully laid plans, all her hopes for tonight, everything has just turned to shit.

She grabs a pillow off her bed and muffles a short scream in it. She's not just disappointed, but fucking furious too. Angry with her brother and now with her _whatever-the-hell-he-is. _

_Fuck Viserys! _

_And fuck Jorah too! _

How dare they ruin her day. How dare Viserys treat her like shit all her damn life!

And how dare Jorah cancel on her again!

"Arrrg!" Dany throws the pillow against a wall and gets up. There's nothing left to get ready for now, so there's no hurry in her steps as she walks back to the bathroom to dry herself off.

*

Daenerys has spent the past three hours all by herself fuming and steaming and almost boiling over.

She won't share the Viserys incident with anyone, that's only between her and her brother. And honestly, she hasn't thought about him _that_ much because she's made a decision, and she'll be damned if she backs out of it not even one Goddamn day into it. 

But Jorah?

_Ha!_

Now that's a different story, a new story. So damn new it's barely got any pages written in it, and she would have loved nothing more than to have written a few more tonight. But no, the man just _had_ to cancel on her last minute.

Dany grunts as she traverses the empty apartment, she's a trapped cat pacing the limits of her confinement from wall to wall, waving her tail from side to side, feeling more and more irritated with each step and tail wag. And worse still, there's no one around to meow at, or whine to. Missandei is away for the long weekend, down to Marseille, visiting Torgo's parents, and she has no idea where the hell Doreah is, but every time she's tried calling her it's gone straight to voice mail. 

She needs one of the girls, needs someone to talk to and take her out of her thoughts. Someone to offer her the reassurance that what she's feeling is justified, to tell her, _"You're right, that's shitty of him. Fuck him! He's not even worth thinking about" _

She _needs_ that. 

Twenty minutes later, Dany tries texting Doreah and the texts actually go through. 

The girls continue their playful bickering for a while, almost long enough for Dany's thoughts of arrangements and forsaken promises to dissipate. 

They come back to her once the texting is over, but this time it's different. She hates to admit it, she does, but Doreah is right, this is just an arrangement, she has no right to demand any time from Jorah. 

What they have is an exchange, just that.

And the sooner she gets that through that thick skull of hers the better.

Left with nothing better to do, Dany decides that she might as well study, after all, Summer has just begun and finals are right around the corner. It's the responsible, grown-up thing to do.

She picks up her phone and goes through her contacts, trying to figure out who to ask for the notes to the morning class.

Her fingers scroll to the letter I.

Irri—_That's always an option, though she's not exactly the most conscientious person in that class. Her notes are probably a jumbled mess._

She scrolls past the Is and past the Js and into the Ks.

Kinvara— _She's much better at taking notes, but she'll also ask a thousand questions and, honestly, she's kind of a bitch._

Dany groans and scrolls back up. 

She stops at the Js again. Her thumb tapping at the edge of the screen.

Jon—_ He'll have the best notes, but he's... **Jon.** Do I wanna go there?_

One spot down she sees Jorah's name and a tinge of anger rolls inside her belly. 

Her eyes move from one man's name to the other, once, twice, thrice. Her finger quickly presses on one of them. 

Dany's heart is thumping in her chest and a tiny smile pulls at the corner of her lips. 

Jon Snow has asked her out!

Well, granted, it's a study session, but still! 

_Jon Snow! _

_The _Jon Snow, the same one she's had a crush on for years, the one she'd been daydreaming about not too long ago.

_Jon!_

A man her own age. A fine man, a man she has met at college and not through—

_Monday, 4PM, _she repeats, looking forward to the study session, knowing that unlike someone else, _he_ won't cancel on her. 

*

After almost two and a half hours of failed attempts at concentrating on her studying, Dany lays in bed, munching on a twizzler, half watching a house hunters show, half trying not to think of _anything_ that has happened today.

Right now, Viserys is nowhere near as important as the TV couple's argument over white or dark kitchen cabinets.

The study session with Jon is nothing compared to the age-old dilemma of suburbs or city living. 

Doreah's words mean zilch when the couple is debating over the necessity of a man-cave.

And Jorah's cancelation is—

Her phone dings and— _Speak of the devil,_ —Jorah's name lights up on screen. 

Dany picks up the phone and reminds herself of the conversation she had with Doreah, and how she has no right to be angry with him, for this is not a relationship but an _arrangement_. And if anything he's the one on the losing side, for he's footing up the bill while getting a bunch of nothing in exchange. Heck, tomorrow will make a whole month worth of nothing. 

She knows all that, she knows it well. She does! But, his name on her screen makes anger roll inside her belly... and something else.

She can't help it, because even if everything and everyone tells her that this is just an arrangement, it _still_ doesn't feel like it!

_It feels..._

_...real. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish someone had smacked me over the head and brought me back to my senses when I came up with the idea of using texting for a fic.  
One misspelled word and I gotta redo the damn whole screenshot. 😬🤦🏼♀️


End file.
